


He Knows You're Alone

by Sage8771



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Evil Negan, F/M, Horrible treatment of good characters, Humiliation, Marriage, Negan (Walking Dead) is an automatic warning, Negan is Dangerous, Obsession, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Negan (Walking Dead), Post-Break Up, Restraints, Rick is the good guy!, Sex, Stalking, Strong Female Characters, bad Negan, intentional drugging of character, race to save lives, reconciliaton, resilient characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 130,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage8771/pseuds/Sage8771
Summary: After taking a break from her boyfriend, Jessica meets Negan, a suave, gorgeous guy that seems to be perfect. But when old love rekindles, he reveals just how unhinged he really is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScareBearArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScareBearArt/gifts), [CLTex84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CLTex84/gifts), [gingersnaps11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersnaps11/gifts).



> So, Negan is not a good guy in this story. I know that I always write him as a romantic hero, but this time he's not, so fair warning. I wanted to try something a little different for Halloween, and I hope you enjoy. Plus, I love me some sexy, dangerous, unhinged Negan.

 

   “Shit.”

   Jess swerved to the right, nearly passing up the gravel drive, and the driver behind her laid on his horn as he blew past. Sticking her middle finger out the window, she skidded to a stop, double checking the address.

   “This can’t be right,” she muttered, bringing up the website on her phone, but the numbers on the concrete slab just off of Industrial Road were the same, and she tossed the phone onto her lap, driving forward as she tapped her nails against the steering wheel.

   The area was devoid of any life, just dead grass and bare trees as she followed its snaking trail to God only knew where, her mouth dropping when two grey smokestacks appeared out of nowhere. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she continued down the lane towards a large, grey factory that sat at least two miles off of the road.

   “Oh, this isn’t creepy at all,” she announced even though she was alone, driving through a barbed wire fence and into a parking lot that had only two cars in it. When her boss Michonne booked this appointment for her, she swore that this Negan guy was the best around, but she didn’t bother to mention that his office was in a freaky ass old factory, and she almost turned around and left. But Michonne would kill her, tired of hearing her complain about her sore neck and back, and she parked in the empty spot that was closest to the door, where there was a nondescript sign announcing that she was at the Sanctuary Physical Wellness Center.

   “Fuck it,” Jess breathed, cutting the engine. If this guy could bring her any relief from the constant ache, she’d tough it out. Turning her phone to vibrate, she stuck it in her purse, locking her door and striding to the double glass doors, pleasantly surprised when she walked inside.

   The interior was a direct contrast to the imposing front of the building, with a fountain bubbling in the atrium and a tree that snaked up the left wall. There were at least two dozen chairs that faced a large flat screen television, and a receptionist that sat just underneath in front of a set of swinging doors.

   “Good morning,” the woman chirped, setting down her pen. “Welcome to the Sanctuary. How may I help you?”

   “Hi,” Jess stepped forward, setting her purse on the counter. “I’m Jessica Turner and I have a ten o’clock appointment with Negan.”

   “Right,” her glasses slid down her nose as she handed her a clipboard with several papers attached. “I’ll need to see your drivers license and your insurance card.”

   Jess pulled them from her wallet, handing them to the woman whose name was Olivia, judging by the placard on her desk, and she made a copy before giving them back.

   “There are just a few forms for you to fill out, and we’ll get you in a room right away.”

   Taking a seat in the middle of the row, she started the annoying process of seeing a new health care specialist, listing her name, address and physical information. Have you ever seen a massage therapist? _No_. Do you have any physical limitations? _Yes_. Married? _No_.

   When it got to where she had to describe why she was here, she wrote it quickly, listing her current medications and allergies, but when she looked at the emergency contact information, her hand started to shake, and she debated on who to put down.

   With a hard swallow, she listed Michonne first before adding her ex as the second contact, running her finger over his name before moving on to the rest of the questions. Once all the forms were signed and dated, she brought them back to the secretary, who scanned them before looking up with a shy smile.

   “You’ve never had a massage?”

   “No,” Jess replied, tucking her shirt back into her jeans. “My chiropractor recommended a deep tissue massage for my neck and upper back, so I thought I’d give it a go.”

   “Negan is the best,” she said, a dreamy expression taking over her face, and Jess fought a smile. Clearly, someone was in love with their boss, and she waited for the woman to remember she was standing there. Blinking, Olivia’s face turned red, and she waved her back to her seat, telling her that it would be just another few moments. As she sat back down, the mousy woman disappeared behind the double doors, and Jess pulled out her phone, sending Michonne a text.

_WTF Mich? This place is in the middle of nowhere!_

**_Mike raved about it. Said it was the best he’d ever felt when he got out of there. Negan’s a genius._ **

_Well, his secretary seems to think so. I thought she was going to belt out a song in praise or something._

_**:)  Call me when you’re done.**_

 

   “Jessica?”

   Her head snapped up as Olivia appeared in the doorway, waving her over, and she chucked the phone back into her purse, following behind the woman. She was led down a long, gleaming white hallway that had soft music playing overhead, and Olivia stopped at door number seven, ushering her in.

   “Now, please strip down to your underwear only,” she pointed to the hanger on the inside of the door, “and you’re going to lay facedown on the table. You can cover your lower half and leave your back free. Negan will be in to see you in just a few minutes. There’s a button on the side of the table, so just press it if you need anything, all right?”

   “Sure.”

   Olivia stepped out, and she hung her purse on the hook, kicking off her shoes and removing her jeans before folding them and setting them on the chair. The room was warm and spicy smelling, and there were thick curtains over the window, with only one lamp to light the small area. It gave it a soothing feel, and there was a separate cd player in the room, already spitting out music.

   Once she got her shirt off, she stuffed her bra inside the armhole, setting it with her jeans before getting on the table and covering herself with the blanket, which was surprisingly thick for such a warm room. As she tried to get her breasts into a comfortable position, she could hear a man’s voice right outside the door, and it made her nervous for some reason.

   Hurriedly sticking her face down into the little resting hole, Jess laid her arms around her head, fighting the urge to giggle as the door opened and a pair of bare feet came into view. Christ, he was probably one of those granola loving hippies, and she bit her lip, overwhelmed with anxiety.

   “Good morning,” came a deeply smooth voice. “Jessica, I presume?”

   “Yes.”

   A hand appeared under her face, giving a little wave, and she breathed unsteadily, tensing up as the feet planted themselves on either side of her head.

   “I’m Negan. Welcome to the Sanctuary.”

   “Uh, thanks.”

   “I read your file, and you’re here because you’re having neck and upper back pain, right?”

   “Yes.”

   “It also said that you were in a car accident," he added.

   “I was.”

   “Can you tell me a little bit about what happened?”

   “There’s nothing to tell really,” she said as she heard him reach for something, massage oil, most likely, and there was a popping sound as he opened it. “I was driving through an intersection and some asshole ran a red light. He slammed into me going about forty-five.”

   “Jesus,” Negan sympathized. “I’m sorry.”

   “I was lucky,” she said, staring at his feet which were really nice. Not a speck of dry skin, with a little bit of dark hair on the toes and buffed nails. “It could’ve been a lot worse. I just ended up with some bumps and bruises, a sprained neck and a wicked concussion. Everything else healed, but I’m still having a lot of neck and upper back pain.”

   “Well, let's see what we can do to help you,” he said in a soothing voice that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m going to apply some oil to your shoulders and start there. Wicked tattoo by the way.”

   “Thanks,” she said, shutting her eyes. Jess sometimes forgot it was there because it wasn’t like she saw it every day, but most people hated it. She’d gotten a flock of birds in flight across her back, starting just below her left shoulder blade and carrying diagonally across to her upper right shoulder.

   It was quiet for a while as he started on her back, his hands slightly rough, but warm, and she zoned out while he worked until he had her adjust her arms for him. “Hmmm” he muttered after a while, and her head started to pop up. “Head down, please.”

   “Sorry.”

   “You’ve got a lot of knots and scarring, Jessica. It’s going to probably take more than one session to work them out, but I can see why you’re in pain.”

   His strokes got harder as he dug into her skin, using his fingers to loosen the muscle, and it was painful, a lot more painful than she thought it would be. But underneath that was a sense of relief, like pulling out a splinter. His leg brushed up against her arm as he leaned over, and she opened her eyes, staring at his feet as he switched sides.

   Jess wasn’t sure if it was the oil or him, but it smelled really good, like spices and fresh air. Negan hit a tender spot on her neck, and she moaned lightly, unable to stop herself. She could feel his leg stiffen, and her face got hot.

   “Sorry,” she shut her eyes as he continued to work the area. “That’s where it hurts the most.”

   “Let it out, Jessica,” he urged, making her stomach squirm. “It’s what I’m here for.”

   This was way more intimate than she was expecting, but it was like he was paralyzing her, making it so that she couldn’t move if she wanted to. Everything he did felt so good, it left her sinking into a haze, expedited by the soft music and dim light, and she almost passed out. His hands brushed the outer swell of her breasts, and she saw his toes curl up for just a second, sending a wave of embarrassment straight through her, but Negan merely continued his strokes up and down her back.

   “Okay, you’re all done,” he announced, clapping his hands together, the music cutting off abruptly. “Like I said, I highly recommend that you set up another appointment so that we can get all of your trouble spots under control. If you want to come back, just stop and talk to Olivia and she’ll get you set up for another session in a week.”

   “Thank you, Negan.”

   His feet disappeared out of her sight, and he left the room, the door shutting quietly behind him. When she was sure she was alone, Jessica lifted her head, feeling out of sorts and like her joints had been lubricated. It took her a second to get to a sitting position, and she slid down to the ground, folding the blanket up and setting it on the table.

 

 

     
   Three doors down, Negan opened up his laptop, clicking on the icon that was labeled ‘Dictations’, leaning back in his chair as the security camera in the reception room came to life. He waited patiently to see if she was going to make an appointment, and also to get a look at her features.

   If her face was half as attractive as the rest of her, he was going to be in love. Shapely legs, dark hair, and a fucking naughty tattoo. Something told him that she was a wildcat, and he was going to have to put some moves on her once she was no longer a client. To his immense satisfaction, she went straight to Olivia, and he zoomed in the picture to get see her face. Oh, fuck yes, she was gorgeous, and he grinned as she made another appointment, Olivia marking it on the computer.

   Once she’d left for good, he kicked his legs up onto the desk, reaching for her file and reading it again. Jessica Turner, unmarried, twenty-nine years old. He didn’t make a habit of picking up women at his job, especially since he owned this place, but there was something about this girl, the way she moaned when he hit that one spot. Oh, it was going to haunt his fucking dreams.

   He scanned the rest of her information, looking indifferently at the first emergency contact name, but the second one made him frown. She wasn’t hitched, but there was apparently a man in her life.

   One named Rick Grimes. He’d have to find out if he was special to her before he set up a date. Once she got a look at him, there was no way she’d say no. Women never did.

   Whistling to himself, he turned off the camera to get ready for his next client, walking with a little extra pep, as he replayed the sound of Jessica moaning in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

   “Tell me about the artist again.”

   Jessica stood next to her latest client, the two of them staring up at a painting, and she took a deep breath as she explained it one more time for Gregory’s benefit.

   “This artist was named John Paul Mack. He was born in New York City in 1901 and joined the Merchant Marines just out of school. He ended up spending most of his life in Paris, where he discovered a passion for painting in his twenties,” Jessica explained, feeling Gregory’s eyes drift to her face and then down to her chest. “His early works were considered attractive, but pedestrian. More of a poor man’s Monet, if you will.”

   “He lost a wife and child, yes?”

   “Right,” she nodded, folding her arms. “After losing his wife Martine in childbirth, John Paul’s art became much darker and maudlin, which inspired and awakened a real talent. This painting is one of his best, in my opinion.”

   Gregory’s tongue slicked across his lips, reminiscent of a snake and Jess took a half a step away from him, but he mimicked her movement, keeping pace with her.

   “This one is…”

   “It’s called _‘A Life of Quiet Desperation’_ ,” she reminded him, gesturing towards the canvas. “Upon initial reflection, it’s merely a portrait of a family looking out over the Seine. The woman and children are standing together watching a ship as it sails by, but if you really examine it, you can see that the gentleman is standing apart from his family and his shoulders are set, giving him a more despondent posture, whereas the woman and children are more engaged. See here how the area around the man is just a little darker? You can see the grayer tones in the water and above him in the sky.”

   “Oh, oh yes,” Gregory exclaimed, squinting where she was pointing, his lips glistening with saliva. “So, it’s very valuable, then.”

   “Mack’s popularity has increased tremendously over the last decade,” Jessica agreed, internally rolling her eyes. “If you’re looking to collect art as an investment, then this is a very good piece to start with, but in my opinion, you should buy something that speaks to you, Gregory. Art is meant to invoke feelings. You want to have a connection to it, especially if you’re going to look at it every day.”

   “And what does it say to you?”

   “Art is personal. What I take from it may be quite different than what you might. What does it say to _you_? How does it make you feel?”

   The older man stared at it for a while, his mouth opening and closing as she waited to hear what he came up with.

   “I’m not quite sure,” he fumbled, looking to her for reassurance. “I think it’s very colorful.”

   “That’s good,” she humored him, catching Michonne shaking her head behind him. “Sometimes people have a strong, visceral reaction to paintings, and other times it takes a while to reveal more layers of inspiration.”

   “I think I’ll take it.”

   “Wonderful choice,” she smiled brightly, starting toward the counter. Gregory had been in the gallery no less than five times over the past two weeks, always when she was working. If Michonne offered to help him, he’d wave her off, zoning straight in on Jessica. The guy had the hots for her, no doubt, and had she not been at work, she would’ve told him to pound sand, but this was her job, and she maintained a cool professionalism. 

   As they arranged the sale and transfer of the piece, Gregory pulled out his American Express card, handing it over to her with a smile, and she completed the transaction, giving it back to him. 

   “Aaron will deliver this to you tomorrow,” she explained, verifying the address he wanted it brought to, and Gregory placed both hands on the counter, leaning in towards her.

   “Please let me buy you dinner,” he asked, giving her a hopeful look. “I can take you anywhere you want to go.”

   “Thank you, Gregory, but I don’t date clients. The art is for sale, not me.”

   His face dropped, and she tried to temper it with a gentle smile, cringing inside when he steeled himself, dropping his card on the glass top. “I hope you change your mind, dear. I can make all your dreams come true.”

   Fixing his suit jacket, he headed towards the door, pushing it instead of pulling, and he stalked out red-faced as Jess stood there with her eyebrow raised. 

   “Jesus Christ.”

   Michonne hurried over, snatching up the card and dropping it into the wastebasket. 

   “I’m so proud of you,” she chuckled, taking Gregory’s spot. “I know it was killing you to deal with him.”

   “A commission is a commission,” Jess shrugged, recording the sale in the computer and dropping the receipt in the till. Guys like Gregory could never appreciate the art they bought, too concerned with the status and expense, and Jess was kind of sorry that she pushed the sale through, wandering over to get a last good look at the Mack that would soon be wasted in Gregory’s house. She was also a little disgusted that he’d think she’d have any interest in him. He was twice her age, and he had the personality of overcooked turnips. Still, the fact that he’d dropped sixty thousand dollars on a painting was encouraging, since it was her biggest sale this year. 

   Michonne was nothing if not generous, giving her a ten percent commission on all sales she made, and Jess was nearly giddy with excitement. That money was going straight into her savings account which was anemic after the accident. Medical bills nearly wiped her out, and she needed to right the financial ship, so to speak. 

   “Where are we going to celebrate?” Michonne wiggled her hips as her hair bounced up and down over her shoulders. “I owe you drinks.”

   “I have that massage scheduled for the morning,” she said over her shoulder, not really feeling like going out. “I should probably just head home.”

   “No,” Michonne said firmly. “You’ve been living like a recluse for the last three months, J. We’re going out to drink and have fun, and I won’t take no for an answer. So, go home and get changed, and I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

   There was no way to weasel out when Michonne got like this, so Jess grabbed her purse, heading out the front door of the Anthony gallery and sliding behind the wheel of her car. 

    _Recluse_. A solitary life. 

   It wasn’t like that was what she wanted, but when she and Rick broke up, it damaged something deep inside her, a place that would never heal no matter how much time passed. Rick was the guy that she thought she was going to grow old with. Have kids with. Raise his kid with. She loved Carl as much as she loved his father, but now, she didn’t even get to see him.

   When she packed up her things and left Rick’s house, Carl had been standing by the door, his shoulders hunched and up around his ears. He was very much like the Mack painting, standing apart from his dad and refusing to look at Jessica. She’d betrayed him in his eyes, someone that he’d grown to love, and now she was walking out of their lives. 

   “I hate you,” he’d muttered, wanting to hurt her and doing a damned good job, so much so that she’d sucked in a ragged breath, barely making it out the door before collapsing into tears. He was angry with her, angry that the tentative stability that he’d grown accustomed to was once again gone, just like his parents' marriage a few years before. Jess had tried to call him in the following days, but each time she did, it would go straight to voicemail, and she finally left him alone.

   For weeks after, she had to drag herself out of bed, putting little to no effort into anything. Not her job, not her appearance. Jess was just going through the motions of life, adrift in a sea of sadness mixed in with apathy, because all she could think about was Rick’s blue eyes and the way his curls would fall over his forehead when he’d hover over her in bed. 

   Shaking off the memories, she pulled out into traffic, willing away the pain in her heart.

 

 

  
   “What?”

   Leaning over, Jess tried to hear was Andrea was saying, but the only words she could decipher was ‘vacation’ and ‘hiking’. Nodding once, she hoped it was the right response, and it was, because Andrea sat back with a triumphant smile, and Jess hoped she wasn’t screwing herself. Michonne had gone to check on her son, and Andrea typed on her phone, sending flirty messages with her boyfriend Shane, Rick’s partner. 

   Sheer stubbornness kept her from asking how Rick was, and she excused herself to freshen up, bypassing the bar on the way. Why Michonne picked this club she’d never know, but at least they had a VIP table, so the harassment by drunk banker boys was kept to a minimum. 

   The bathroom of the Standard Lounge was nicer than her apartment, and she reapplied her lipstick, scrutinizing her appearance in the mirror. Tall, with long, black hair and pale skin, Rick had always joked that they were completely mismatched physically. He wasn’t a slight man by any means, but they were nearly the same height, and he was as tan as she was alabaster in appearance. Rick was a country boy, and she was a city girl, but Jessica had always thought that their differences made them stronger.

   Where he was methodical and cautious, she was passionate and prone to whimsical decisions. He’d plan out their weekends and she’d chuck it all in the dumpster, whisking Rick and Carl off on an overnight trip to Savannah or Charleston, taking them on historical walks or to the local museums. Conversely, Rick would drag them away to football and baseball games, and Jess would try her best to follow along, loving the way Rick’s face would get this look of intensity as his team scored a touchdown or hit a home run. 

   “Stop it,” she told her reflection, wiping a smudge of eyeliner away. It was pointless to think about the past, because she and Rick were done, and there was no going back, no matter how much she still loved him.

   The bar was packed, and Jess tried to weave her way back towards the VIP section, fending off drunken advances and offers for drinks. As she passed along a row of booths, a dark-haired man had caught her eye. He was older than the rest of the crowd, sitting with a blonde-haired girl that was probably younger than she was, but their eyes met, and it sent a jolt of electricity straight through her. The guy was probably the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, with thick, black hair and a strong jaw, lightly covered in stubble and intense, brown eyes. His date was snuggled up against his side, kissing his neck, and he gave Jess a heated smile as she passed, her entire body feeling feverish.

   Other than Rick, she’d never had such a strong physical reaction like that in her life, and she could feel his eyes on her back as she went up the landing to where Michonne and Andrea were sitting, taking her seat with shaky legs. 

   “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Michonne said, snapping her fingers to get Jessica’s attention. Her eyes were straying towards the booth where the man was sitting, and she was just able to see the top of his head. What was wrong with her?

   “Yeah, I mean, no, I’m fine,” Jess forced herself to look away, the image of the man smiling at her playing on a loop in her brain. “I think I may have had too much to drink.”

   “You’ve had one glass of wine,” Andrea pointed out, glancing at Michonne. “Are you obsessing over Rick?”

   “God, Andrea, take it down a notch,” Michonne snapped, reaching for Jessica’s hand. “She’s fine.”

   “You know what? I’m just going to go. I’ve got that massage in the morning.”

   The other two women tried to talk her out of leaving, but Jess grabbed her purse, starting for the door. Like the worst nightmare of her life, the man and his date stood up just before she reached them, heading towards the exit in front of her, and she ground her teeth together as the man cupped the blonde’s ass as they walked, her own tingling in response. She had to get out of here. 

   Using her long legs to her advantage, she veered around them, cutting through a group of drunk frat bros and shooting through the door to the valet, handing him her ticket. The muted sound of heels on the sidewalk told her that they were right behind her, and she squared her shoulders, feeling the unexplainable urge to turn around so that she could look at his face again, the wind making her bare back feel like a block of ice.

   Thankfully, the valet was back in record time, and she stuffed a handful of bills into his fist, slamming the door behind her. As she chanced a quick glimpse, she again locked eyes with the guy, his lips spreading to a smile, and she nearly gunned the engine, pulling away with a ragged breath. It was hands down the most unsettling thing to happen to her since the accident, and when she got home, she tossed and turned in bed, unable to get the stranger out of her mind. 

   The next morning, she threw on a skirt and top, slipping into a pair of sandals, even though summer was long gone. She was running late for her massage, and she hauled ass back to Industrial Road, trying to make up for lost time, pulling into the same spot as before with just seconds to spare. 

   “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Turner,” Olivia trilled, standing up and taking her immediately back. “How are you?”

   “I’m good, how are you?”

   “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it? I just love Indian summer,” Olivia opened the door to room two this time, sending her in. “You remember the drill. Everything off and face down and just give a shout if you need anything.”

   “Will do.”

   This room was warm like the other one, but it was done in deep reds and browns, which worked surprisingly well together, the salt lamp giving it an exotic feel. After laying her clothes on the chair, Jess took her spot on the table, feeling a little less nervous than the first time, but still not completely comfortable. It was odd to have someone touching her without knowing anything about them, but this Negan guy seemed nice enough. It would be nicer to have a face to go with the deep voice, and she tucked her head into the rest, counting her breaths until the door opened and his feet appeared in her line of view. Did he have long hair and a ZZ Top beard? Who could tell?

   “Good morning,” he said in that baritone pitch, the pop of the oil bottle accompanying the music. “I’m glad to see you made another appointment. How are you feeling?”

   “Not too bad. I was sore the day after, but I feel like I’m getting a little more mobility in my neck.”

   “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he slapped his hands together before gently probing the back of said neck. Strong fingers ran up and down her spine, testing the area, and she shut her eyes, willing herself into relaxing. “It’s okay, Jessica. There’s no need to be tense. I’ll get much better results if you just let this happen organically.”

   God, was it that obvious? Exhaling loudly, she gave up control of her body to him, letting him maneuver the muscles and skin the way he wanted, instead thinking about the man from the night before. She’d never seen him in her life, yet it felt like he knew her somehow, the way he was looking at her. Looking into her with an air of knowing and…amusement? Was that the right word?

   “Move your arms up just a little,” Negan instructed her, the front of his thighs brushing her knuckles. Jess adjusted herself, and he purred lightly, making her shiver automatically. As he dug into the scar tissue, that same sense of pain and inability to move took over, sending all rational thoughts from her head, taking her to a place with no words, no pictures, just pure bliss. She lost track of time as he worked the base of her spine all the way up to the bottom of her skull and her shoulders, making the muscles as warm as a crackling fire. 

   “How are you feeling now?” Negan asked an indeterminate time later, and her eyes fluttered open to see his feet underneath her. 

   “Wonderful,” she admitted, hearing him chuckle. 

   “Then I’ve done my job well. I’d like you to keep up a monthly schedule if you’re up to it so that we don’t lose the progress we made, and if you need anything, just give me a call.”

   “Thank you so much.”

   “It’s my pleasure,” he said, opening the door. “You looked lovely last night, by the way.”

   Her head shot up as the door clicked shut, her mouth dropping in surprise as she tried to understand his meaning. Jess scrambled off the table, dressing as fast as she could, but when she stepped out into the hall, it was completely empty. How did he see her last night?

   She was so lost in thought that she walked right past Olivia, nearly forgetting to set up another session until she reached the door, and she had to double back like an asshole. Olivia set her up for the following month, and she sheepishly retreated to her car, still trying to work out how he knew her. Obviously, the only place she’d been yesterday was at the gallery and the bar, so maybe he’d been at either of those places.

   But he’d never seen her face, so how did he know it was her?

   When she got home, she went straight to her computer, typing the name ‘Negan’ in the search engine, but the only thing that came up was an origin of the name, a shortened version of Finnegan or Branegan. That was no fucking help, so she tried ‘Negan Sanctuary’, this time getting a few articles.

   Clicking on the one titled, ‘ _Savior of the Damaged’_ , Jessica read through the glowing words, the author clearly as charmed by the therapist as Olivia was.

 

_Don’t let the severe façade fool you: The inside of the Sanctuary Wellness Center is an oasis of comfort, a marked contrast to the gray, industrial interior. Soothing water, greenery aplenty, and an owner that works to ensure that every client leaves feeling better than when they came in._

_“It’s a calling,” Negan admits, both the proprietor and sole therapist for his rapidly expanding business. “I want to save people. It’s what I do best, and what I’ve done my entire life. When people are in pain, they’re looking for anyone to take it away, and I can provide that relief.”_

_His assistant, Olivia is his biggest fan, gushing over how her boss helped her overcome nerve pain brought on by poor posture._

_“I’ve never gone more than a day without hurting until Negan came along,” she smiled. “He knows what people need, and he’s able to provide true, genuine help.”_

 

   The article continued on, and Jess scrolled to the bottom, her fingers shaking as she zoomed in on the accompanying picture. There, standing in front of the factory, barefoot and smiling was the dark-haired man from the bar, and Jess nearly fainted from shock. Negan, the man who’d been massaging her for the past two weeks was the same guy who had her unable to sleep the night before. 

   There was no way in hell she’d ever be able to go back to the Sanctuary to face him, and she exited the article, her skin covered in goosebumps.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_NEVER. AGAIN._

_**Is the date that bad already?**_

_It hasn’t even started yet. He’s ten minutes late! I’m standing here in a dress by myself like an asshole._

_**Oh shit. Andrea said he was a really nice guy.**_

_Yeah, well, her version of nice isn’t the same as normal people. I should’ve known better than to let her set me up._

_**Hang in there! It’ll get better.**_

 

   Jessica laughed to herself, sending an angry face emoji to Michonne before peeking out of the curtains of her living room. After weeks of begging, haranguing and just plain torture, she’d agreed to go out with a junior partner in Andrea’s firm, some guy named Tristan Jennings. According to Andrea, he was single, never married, and a volunteer for Big Brothers and Big Sisters.

   To get Andrea off her back, she agreed to go on a date with the guy, just to dip her toe back into the dating pool, and she was already regretting it. This Tristan had texted her over the last couple of days, and he seemed nice enough. At least, the words on her phone screen did. He’d asked her to accompany him to the Atlanta Preservation Society’s annual ball that took place every October 30th. It was a black-tie affair, and she’d spent the entire fucking day getting ready for it, only to be stood up. The only thing she was thankful for was the fact that she hadn’t spent any money on a dress, borrowing one that Michonne claimed was too long for her.

   It fit Jess suspiciously well, and she’d taken it grudgingly when Mich refused to take any money for it. Now, she was pacing her living room, contemplating whether or not to just change out of it and throw something comfortable on. Deciding to give it ten more minutes, she sat down on the couch, her feet moving a mile a minute. Why would she ever agree to go out with someone she didn’t know? It could only end in disaster, at least going by the last few blind dates she’d had.

   Well-meaning friends always told her that they had the perfect guy for her, but she wondered what sort of impression she was giving them. A middle-aged, twice-divorced pilot who spent the entire night running down his two ex-wives, and a hipster record store owner who didn’t have enough money to cover dinner. Yeah, this night was screwed.

   Just when she was about to give up and drown her sorrows in chocolate, she got a text from Tristan that he was down the street and to come on out. Fucking really?

   Stomping over to the door, she grabbed a wrap for her shoulders and a little black purse, tucking her key inside next to the mace that she kept on her at all times, a Bentley pulling into the little parking lot outside her building. She could hear music through the closed windows, and she mourned the death of chivalry, opening the door to find Tristan bobbing his head to the music.

   “Hey, you must be Jessica,” he said, turning down the throbbing beat, shaking her hand with a strong grip. “Andrea didn’t exaggerate your beauty at all. I’m Tristan.”

   “Nice to meet you,” she replied as politely as she could under the circumstances, and as soon as she got her seatbelt buckled, he reversed the car, barely missing the fire hydrant.

   “Sorry I’m late. I was on a call to the West Coast and it took longer than I thought.”

   “Not a problem.” The less time she spent with this guy, the better. He was handsome, at least, sporting blondish-brown hair and full lips. His nails were manicured, and he was wearing an expensive tuxedo, with diamond cufflinks that glittered even in the dark.

   “So, have you ever been to this thing before?”

   “No, have you?”

   “Nope,” he said, easing himself back into his seat. “One of my clients gave me the tickets. It’s supposed to be the crème de la crème of Atlanta society, so I’m psyched to make some connections.”

   Okay, using the phrase crème de la crème was strike two, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock. It was going to be a long fucking night, she thought, setting her wrap on her knees. They exchanged a few more words before he turned the music back up, and Jess stared out the window, rethinking her life and all the choices she’d made that put her in this car.

   The gala was being held at the Biltmore, the only reason Jessica hadn't flung herself into oncoming traffic, and she was genuinely excited to see it firsthand, having never actually set foot inside the ballrooms. Since she was a history buff, seeing the architecture was on her must-do list, and she tuned out Tristan’s ramblings about his rich clients, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

   Gleaming white columns were gently lit with pale orange, and they pulled up to the entrance, a young man in a white shirt and black vest helping her out as Tristan handed the keys to another.

   “Take care of her,” he warned the valet, coming around the front and holding out his arm. Jess gave the guy an apologetic smile, walking slowly behind the well-heeled elite of modern-day Atlanta. “You look very pretty,” Tristan complimented her, and she offered a subdued thanks.

   Once they got inside, she looked around in wonder, the attention to detail leaving her breathless. Gilded sconces, antique enamel tiles that were gleaming white, raised flowers that appeared dipped in glass, glossy wood doors that led to different ballrooms. Jess was in heaven, and she let Tristan guide them to the event organizers that were collecting the tickets.

   “Mr. Jennings and Miss Turner,” a chipper girl in a midnight blue cocktail dress greeted them, waving towards the first ballroom on the left. “You’re in this room for dinner at table twelve, and then once the auction begins, please feel free to join any of the other parties in the adjoining ballrooms.”

   “Thank you,” Tristan dismissed her, taking Jessica by the hand and escorting her to the Brigham room. They were seated under a five-foot-wide chandelier, with gold and pale green art deco circles and squares across the ceiling. He at least had the good manners to pull out her chair, and she perched on the edge, studying the china that was also trimmed in gold. Simple, but elegant, and she set her napkin on her lap as waiters delivered champagne and water.

   “God, this place is old,” he leaned towards her, speaking lowly in her ear.

   “It’s a historical treasure,” Jessica said without looking at him. “It was built in 1924 and completely restored. You just don’t see this kind of architecture anymore.”

   “With good reason. This kind of place is a dinosaur. It doesn’t have any modern amenities to make it remotely comfortable. It just looks chintzy.”

   “You do know that I work in a gallery and have a master’s in Fine Arts, right?”

   “So?” he sniffed. “I’m not allowed to have an opinion?”

   “Of course you are,” she reverted to her professional voice. “I just happen to disagree, seeing as this is my passion. Do you prefer red or white?”

   Tristan took the glass of red, sipping at it as their tablemates began to filter in, and he sat up straight when the mayor of Atlanta, Phillip Blake, took the chair across from him. Standing up, he reached across the table to shake his hand, practically drooling on the centerpiece. Jessica received no acknowledgment until Blake came around the table and made his own introduction.

   She found him to be perfectly nice, zoning out as Tristan proceeded to kiss his ass as another couple sat down. Thankfully, the waiters returned with their first course, heirloom tomatoes drizzled with a peach vinaigrette, and the mayor was able to extricate himself from Tristan’s grasp.

    _You’ve been on bad dates before, just eat, drink, and call a goddamned cab if you need to._

   The light background of forks scraping against plates battled with the string quartet that played from the far end of the room, and Jessica made idle chitchat with the woman next to her, an executive that worked for the Atlanta Falcons. She was pretty proud of herself that she actually knew a few of the players, and she only thought about Rick for half the conversation, her attention diverted when a plate of salmon was set in front of her.

   “Excuse me, is there anything other than fish? I don't particularly care for it.”

   Taking a deep breath, she bit down on her lip as the poor kid serving them took Tristan’s dish back, returning a few moments later with chicken, hightailing it away before her date could ask for anything else. After finishing her meal in record time, she excused herself, taking her purse with her to find the restroom, sure that if she could make it through this night, she could handle anything else that life could throw at her. The plague? No problem. An asteroid heading straight for Earth? Easy peasy.

   He wasn’t a bad guy, realistically. He just wasn’t her type. At all. She preferred more down to Earth types of guys, ones that could carry a conversation that didn’t revolve around money or power. Someone that could appreciate art and politics, history and nature. Tristan wasn’t that man, and she sat down on the chaise in the powder room, wondering how long she could hang out there until he noticed.

   By the time she wandered back, the plates had been cleared away, and a chocolate mousse was waiting for her. Jackpot. Tristan had already eaten his, and he was talking heatedly to Mayor Blake about a lawsuit that had caught his eye in New York, a developer who was suing the city to be able to tear down a building that had been deemed a historic landmark.

   “That property is worth ten times more with a new development than just leaving the old, run-down three-story building that’s there now.”

   “I’m sure that there is a lot of money to be made,” the mayor was diplomatic, taking a sip. “But there’s also something to be said for preserving history. Why not just make the necessary repairs if it’s salvageable?”

   “Because you could add at least ten more stories with a newer building, and housing being what it is in that city, it would be a gold mine.”

   “Hmmm,” Blake nodded, rising from his seat. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m needed to start the auction.”

   She had no idea what kind of face she was making, but the mayor gave her a wink, striding off towards the stage, and she bit back a smile, taking a bite of her dessert. Blake thanked the members of the preservation society for putting together another memorable ball, highlighting the companies that donated services and goods for the auction, encouraging all of the attendees to move freely throughout the Biltmore, and Jess rose from her seat with Tristan following behind her.

   While she strolled out of the room, he began glad-handing anyone of importance that he could find, and she ducked into the ballroom across the way, stopping just inside the door with a start. The room was even more beautiful than the other, with an indigo ceiling that was dotted with crystals. It was simply enchanting, and she gazed up at it in wonder, studying the patterns of light and color, the contrast of the white columns that complimented the ones on the face of the building. This place was made of pride and love, and she walked slowly around the room, stopping in front of a sculpture, one of the goddess Gaea, rendered in marble.

   Lost in the details, she didn’t notice that someone had approached her until he spoke just behind her head, making her jump sky high.

   “Are you following me?”

   “I beg your pardon?” she retorted, spinning around to see Negan grinning, making her heart race and her skin burn. He was here. _Here_.

   “I’m joking,” he held his hand over his heart in apology, drawing her eyes to his chest. He was wearing a tuxedo like all of the other males in attendance, but his looked like it was made specifically for him, tailored better than anyone else’s. His hair was slicked back with gel, and he’d shaved, unlike the night she’d seen him at the Standard Lounge.

   “You were at my usual bar, and now you’re here.”

   “What are you doing here?” she struggled to come up with something to say, feeling like he’d ambushed her. It was vaguely like seeing a dog start to speak. Unbelievable. Fantastical.

   “I’m on the board of the Atlanta Preservation Society,” he told her, dropping his hand. “I’ve been involved with these annual balls for the last five years.”

   “Oh.”

   “What are you doing here?”

   “My…date…had tickets…for tonight,” she trailed off, feeling like she was having an out of body experience. _Get it together. What is wrong with you?_

   “Is your boyfriend on the board? Do I know him?”

   There was both curiosity and irritation in his inflection, and Jessica shook her head, trying to regain her verbal footing.

   “He’s not my boyfriend,” she explained, a flicker of warmth rising in her throat as he seemed to brighten. “My friend arranged a blind date and…here I am.”

    _Real smooth._

   “How’s it going?”

   “Not well,” she admitted, a small smile forming in response to his grin. “He’s not what I expected, and we have next to nothing in common.”

   “Don’t you hate it when that happens? I’ve had exactly one blind date that wasn’t a total fucking waste of my time, and honestly, you couldn’t pay me to ever do it again.”

   “Live and learn, I guess,” Jessica laughed, rolling her eyes. “I did it as a favor, and I’m going to kill my friend the next time I see her.”

   “You could use a drink. What can I get you?”

   “I’d love a Dark and Stormy.”

   “Coming right up,” Negan turned and strolled towards the bar, slipping the bartender a tip as he made two of the drinks. Carrying them back over, he handed her one, clinking his glass with hers. “So, how are you feeling? Any more troubles with your neck?”

   “Some occasional stiffness,” she said, sipping the drink and licking her lips in satisfaction. “It’s been a world of difference since I started seeing you.”

   Negan’s eyes drifted towards her throat, the small action sending a tidal wave of butterflies down to her stomach, and Jessica barely had time to think about how he made her feel when she saw Tristan approaching at a clip, shooting Negan a glare as he sidled up next to her. “Thanks for not telling me where you were going. I’ve looked in three other rooms for you.”

   “I didn’t flee the country, I just wanted to see the items up for auction. Then I ran into someone.”

   The air had chilled somewhat between her and Tristan, and she took a deep breath, gesturing towards Negan. Her date was pissed until she told him who she’d been speaking with, and it was like a switch was flipped, Tristan holding out his hand eagerly.

   “You own the Sanctuary Wellness Center,” Tristan nodded. “I work for Benton and Goldman.”

   “Ahh, yes,” Negan’s head tilted to the side as the corner of his mouth twisted up, shaking Tristan’s hand and making the younger guy wince. “Your firm has been trying to earn my business for the last year or so.”

   “Yes, and I’d-“

   “Let me stop you right there,” he cut in, pulling Tristan slightly toward him as he towered over him. “Tonight is neither the time nor the place to whore yourself out, asshole. This is a charity function, and from what I’ve seen, you’re neither charitable nor someone I’d have any fucking interest in working with. The fact that you’ve obviously been inattentive and rude to your date is a goddamned shame, so please let your bosses know that I won’t be pursuing a contract, and that it's entirely because of you.”

   Tristan yanked his hand free as his mouth dropped open, giving her a dirty look. This was Defcon one in his eyes, and he jerked his head towards the door. “Are you ready to go? The auction is for antique and arty shit, and I’m feeling a headache coming on.”

   “Actually, I’m going to get a driver to take me home,” she said, feeling Negan’s eyes shift over to her. “I think we can both agree that this didn’t work out, and there are no hard feelings. I hope you feel better.”

   “Fine.” He turned abruptly, nearly mowing down a woman in a slinky black silk dress who approached, taking Negan by the arm.

   “Hey, baby,” she purred, giving Jessica a sidelong glance. “I’m bored. Can we get out of here?”

   Negan’s face hardened and he blinked slowly, reluctantly introducing the two women.

   “Jessica, this is my date for the night, Chloe. Chloe, this is Jessica.”

   “Nice to meet you,” Jess tried to be polite, reaching to shake her hand, but the other woman merely looked at the gesture before leaning up against Negan’s arm and resting her head on his shoulder. He appeared irritated and uncomfortable while Jessica was just flat out ready to flee. Seeing him with another different woman made a bizarre jealousy form in her gut, but Negan turned and extricated himself from her clingy grasp.

   “I’m in the middle of a conversation with someone,” he said harshly, making Chloe back away, her eyes widening. “I don’t know who raised you, but your rudeness is appalling and extremely unattractive.”

   Chloe’s face went from shocked to murderously angry, and with a huff, she stormed off towards the bar as Negan gave her a sheepish look.

   “It looks like you’re not the only one with a rude date.”

   “It’s fine,” Jess waved him off, taking a large sip of her drink. “I need to call for a ride anyway. It was really nice to see you. To meet you, officially,” she set her nearly empty glass on the closest table, heading for the foyer.

   “Let me walk you out to make sure you’re safe,” he said, catching up to her. At least he was a gentleman, accompanying her to her table where she grabbed her wrap and brought up the Uber app, requesting a vehicle.

   Luckily, there was a driver only a few minutes away, and they made their way towards the entrance, standing next to one of the columns to wait. There was a charged silence between them, at least on her end, and when the car pulled up with the identifying sticker, Negan opened the door of her, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. “Stay safe.”

   Stealing a glance back as they drove away, she saw that he was watching her go, a sliver of longing piercing her heart, and for the first time in a long while, her thoughts didn’t circle back to Rick.

 

 

     
   Negan watched as the car drove away, his heart thumping when Jessica turned around one last time to see him, and he held up his hand, trying to keep from smiling like a simpleton. Once she was out of sight, he returned to the party, finding Chloe at the bar and placing a kiss to her cheek.

   “Was that what you wanted?” she asked curiously, handing him a Scotch. “That was the girl, right?”

   “You were perfect, my dear,” he downed it in one gulp, resting his elbow on the bar top. “That went better than I thought.”

   When he’d attended the last meeting before the ball, the committee had gone over the guest list, Negan zoning out until his eyes caught the name _Jessica Turner_. She was slated to accompany some fucker named Tristan Jennings, and his first instinct was to get violently angry, because she was, in fact, dating someone. But the angel on his shoulder, the one that he mostly ignored pleaded for caution, and he left the meeting with the beginnings of a plan.

   All he wanted to do was watch her at first, maybe make some benign contact to set himself up to possibly see her outside the office again. But it wasn’t going to be enough, he realized, recalling how she shot past him in the bar, her shoulders tensing when he stood behind her with his latest fling. No, he had to up the ante, so he arranged for Chloe to be his date, and he made sure that he was seated in a different room.

   She’d arrived after him, walking in with that douchebag who barely even looked at her, and his devil whispered in his ear that he’d won. There was no way that she was happy with him, and he wanted to rip the guy’s head from his neck for not seeing how lucky he was to be with her. Jessica was no doubt the most entrancing woman in the room, and when she turned away, he could see her tattoo underneath the sheer back of her dress, his cock hardening at the sight. He wanted to run his tongue over it, his hands touching it not doing enough for him anymore, and her hips swayed as she disappeared into the Brigham room.

   Once dinner had finished, he’d stepped out of the circle of men that he’d been conversing with, intending to seek her out when she walked into his ballroom before he could get to her, looking up at the ceiling with a dreamy smile. He’d never seen anything that he’d wanted to possess more, the devil demanding to see that look underneath him in bed, and he’d almost gone over and just picked her up and carried her out of the party to bury his cock inside her in his car.

   The angel came to the rescue once again, and he held firm until she was alone next to a sculpture. When he’d spoken behind her, she turned, the look on her face making him want to roar in victory, because he could see the beginnings of something there. She’d give into him, he could feel it, and he would wait as long as he had to just to make her his. His suspicions were confirmed when she admitted that her date wasn’t serious, just a fixup, and his mind was already hurtling forward towards the next step he wanted to take. But first, he needed to leave her with the seeds of jealousy, planting them in her brain with Chloe, and giving her just enough disinterest in his own date to fertilize it.

   “So, do you still want to fuck?” she asked, making the elderly woman next to her gasp, and he took her by the arm, steering her away.

   “I fucking paid you, didn’t I?”

   They grabbed their coats, and headed for the door, the valet retrieving his car in short order. As they pulled away, he unzipped his pants, easing them down enough that she could have access, slinging his arm behind the passenger’s seat.

   “Well? This dick isn’t going to suck itself.”

   Like the professional she was, Chloe bent over, taking him all of the ways into her mouth, and he palmed the back of her head as he drove, letting his libido take over for his brain, knowing that he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do tonight.

 


	4. Chapter 4

   The weeks between Halloween and Thanksgiving were always Jessica’s favorite during the holiday season. Shopping wasn’t a priority yet, and there was no constant assault of cheery Christmas music and end of year festivities. It was quieter in the gallery, but there were still customers that would stop in, mostly looking for smaller pieces to touch up their homes in anticipation of gatherings and dinners.

   Michonne usually took more time off at the end of the year, and Jessica was fine picking up the slack. After all, she had a child at home to celebrate with, and Jess didn’t. Not anymore. This would be her first year in the past four that she didn’t spend Christmas with Rick and Carl, and the hollowness that had formed after their breakup was growing, not that it stopped the memories of the past.

   The burnt turkey incident that they’d affectionately renamed Cajun Thanksgiving. Sloppily decorated trees, redone in the middle of the night by Jessica. Watching Carl open his gifts in the morning, showing genuine emotion, a rarity for a teenager when she’d gotten him the latest PlayStation. Nights in front of the fireplace, kissing lazily as Carl retreated to his room, giving her and Rick a gift that didn't cost money, time alone.

   This year was destined to be much lonelier, especially since her parents had retired to South Florida, spending their golden years cruising for much of the time. They’d offered to fly her down to join them, but she didn’t want to spend the holidays on a ship with happy couples and families. She’d rather wallow in self-appointed misery.

   Michonne would end up insisting that she join her family, and she’d put in an appearance, but other than that, she had no other plans, save for cleaning her apartment and purging her wardrobe of things that she no longer wore.

   Jess was unloading a new painting when the door chime alerted her that she had a customer, and she emerged from the office to see Gregory standing there with a bouquet of flowers, dressed in an olive green suit, nervously smoothing his hair back. How did he not get it?

   Fixing a smile on her face, she headed towards him, coming to a stop a few feet from his perspiring form.

   “Gregory, how nice to see you. What can I help you with?”

   “Good afternoon,” he cleared his throat, holding out the flowers, which she took after a second’s hesitation. “I wanted to call on you, and to thank you for all of your help a few weeks ago.”

   “No thanks needed. It’s my job, after all, but I appreciate the flowers. They’re very pretty.”

   “The uh, the painting looks really nice in my study.”

   “I’m glad to hear it,” she set the flowers on the counter, resting her hip against it as he followed her movements with shifty eyes. “What else can I do for you? Was there another piece that you were interested in?”

   “You, Jessica. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he pressed his hands together, looking at her almost pleadingly. “Please let me take you to dinner. Just once,” he hurried as she opened her mouth to decline. “If you don’t enjoy yourself, I’ll never bother you again. I just want the chance to show you a night you’ll never forget. You can pick the place, the time. Just give me a chance.”

   The idiot looked so hopeful, so pathetic that she said yes before even thinking about it, his face splitting into a wide smile that made her immediately regret her actions.

   “Wonderful! When can we go?”

   Jessica walked behind the counter, taking a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, quickly scribbling down an address and handing it over to him.

   “I’ll meet you here tomorrow at four o’clock. Dress casually.”

   “Oh, I can pick you up,” he scanned the address, not appearing to recognize it.

   “I’ll meet you there,” she reiterated, not budging. “Four o’clock.”

   “Okay,” he backed off, retreating for the door before she could change her mind. “Tomorrow, four o’clock.”

   Gregory managed to open the door correctly this time, striding down the street as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Jessica, meanwhile, mentally flagellated herself for giving into a guy that she had no attraction nor interest in. Why did women always feel the need to placate the male ego? His life would’ve gone on if she’d refused him again. But the need to not make waves overrode her disinterest in him as a potential partner, and she was pissed.

   Jessica owed him nothing, and yet now she was meeting him tomorrow after her massage. At least it took her mind off of her stupidity, and her thoughts drifted to Negan’s face the night of the ball. He’d been with a different woman than the one at the Standard, yet he didn’t seem that into Chloe.

   “Why do you care?” she muttered to the empty gallery, locking the entrance and retreating to the office, sitting down in front of the newest painting, staring at it blindly.

   Negan _was_ interested in her, she could tell by the way he was looking at her that night, but whether he would act on it was a different story, and she wasn’t quite ready to make the first move. Besides, it was nice to just have a little crush for once.

   Carrying the painting carefully back into the showroom, she placed it on the far wall, studying it with a critical eye. Michonne was getting heavily into Cubist fare, and it wasn’t her favorite movement, to be honest. The painter, an obscure artist from Mexico was colorful, interlocking orange and burnt umber, an earthy rendering of a young woman, her eyes looking off into the horizon.

   The painting to the right, however, was another Mack, and she ran her finger longingly along the frame, wondering how he was so inspired after losing his wife and child.

   There was melancholy throughout his later works, but it was self-contained in the innate beauty of his street scenes. One normally had to look for the doleful touches. Darker paint, maybe a frown in the background. It was life. His life, and it was as true and beautiful as any garden in Giverny.

   After sending a quick text to Michonne that she was heading out, Jessica locked up the gallery, stopping off to grab a quick salad, carrying it into her apartment as she flicked on the lights. Maybe she should get a cat or something. Cats were pretty independent, and she’d have something there waiting for her. Once she changed her clothes, she sat on the couch eating, flipping mindlessly through the channels until she found The Joy of Painting running on PBS, settling back to watch happy little trees borne into existence.

   The next morning, she puttered around her house, answering two texts from Gregory through gritted teeth, more upset at herself than him, finally heading out to her therapy appointment just after two. It was bitterly cold, more than normal for November, closer to up north, and she blasted the heater as she drove, feeling a tingle of anticipation as she turned onto Industrial Road. At least she’d get a good rubdown and the chance to talk to Negan today, which may cancel out what was coming with Gregory.

   Olivia was exceptionally gloomy on this Saturday afternoon, rubbing her hands together as Jessica came in, bringing a gust of air with her.

   “Hey, Olivia,” she greeted the secretary with a smile, unwrapping the scarf from around her neck.

   “Good afternoon.”

   “What a crappy day,” she said, handing over her co-pay as the woman took it without her usual enthusiasm. “Hey, is everything okay?”

   “It’s fine,” she looked down sadly. “I’m just having a bit of a fight with my boyfriend.”

   “Oh, I’m sorry.”

   “He wants me to get a different job, but I’m happy here.”

   “Not to pry, but do you pay your own bills?”

   Olivia appeared startled as she looked up, nodding faintly, and Jess gave her a smile.

   “Then it’s none of his business, is it?”

   Her cheeks pinked up as a little smile flitted across her thin lips, and she allowed herself a little chuckle. “Do what makes you happy, Olivia. Never let a man tell you what to do.”

   The other woman handed her a receipt, rising from her chair with a little more vigor, and she led Jess down the hall, back to room seven. “I’ll let Negan know you’re here. He’s just finishing up with another client.”

   “Thanks, girl.”

   The innocuous statement made Olivia giggle, and she shut the door behind her, allowing Jessica to strip off her coat, hanging it on the door before shucking the rest of her clothes and readying herself on the table.

   When the door opened, she was simultaneously nervous and excited, her arms tensing as his feet came into view, and she fought the rising goosebumps that were forming on her skin as he murmured a soft ‘hello’, getting right to work.

   The music he was playing seemed to be more sensual than meditative, and she kept her eyes open, watching his toes as they moved with each stroke of her back, the warmth emanating from her core like a fire that had been stoked. Negan’s hands were magnificent, coaxing the pain and stiffness out of her muscles like he’d done it all his life, and she stifled another moan this time, his finger twitching softly against her neck.

   “Jessica?”

   The sound of her name in his throat broke her from her state of relaxation, prompting her to take a deep breath.

   “Yes?”

   “Your phone has beeped at least six times in the past five minutes,” he pointed out, sounding on edge. “Is there some sort of emergency you need to address?”

   Ice cold fear shot through her chest as she lifted her head, raising herself up onto her elbows as she tried to keep her breasts under wraps.

   “I hope not. Would you mind…?” she gestured towards her purse, and he handed it to her with the tips of his fingers, trying not to get oil on it, and she quickly extracted her phone, groaning angrily as she read the texts, turning the phone off and throwing her bag harder than she intended towards the chairs. “It’s not an emergency. I’m so sorry. Please continue.”

   Stuffing her face back into the rest, she exhaled sharply as he continued to work her right shoulder. This ‘date’ couldn’t come fast enough, and she was done being nice to Gregory. He was going to know without confusion that she was not interested if it killed her, sales be damned.

   “If it’s not an emergency, it still seems to have upset you,” Negan observed, using his thumb in small circles, pressing down harder with each rotation.

   “It’s not,” she insisted, finally giving up. “I’m meeting a client at four, and he’s a pain in my ass. He wants to date me, and I’ve told him several times that I’m not interested.”

   “I see.”

   Negan’s thumb dug in, and she yelped at the sensation, the digit hitting a tender spot. “Sorry,” he muttered, “but I need to work the scar tissue loose here.”

   The music continued, a slow beat that seemed to match up with his movements, and she just started to relax again when he spoke up.

   “If you’re not interested, you shouldn’t meet him out. Don’t ever feel like you’re obligated to anyone, just because you think you need to be nice.”

   “I know,” she snapped, immediately regretting it. “Sorry, but he caught me off guard, and I just want to get through this dinner so that I can let him know in no uncertain terms that it will never be happening again. I hate that I let him guilt me into it, but I want to see him face to face so that I can deal with him.”

   “I get it,” Negan replied, switching to her other shoulder, “I do. But some guys are unable to deal with rejection, and I worry that you’ll put yourself in a situation that you don’t need to be in.”

   Unable to stop herself, her head popped up, catching him off guard. “Why? You barely know me.”

   “I know that you’re a nice person,” he said carefully, searching her face. “And I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. Nice people sometimes refuse to speak up, even when they see the danger.”

    _Is that the only reason?_

   The question was on the tip of her tongue, but she put her head back down, letting him do his job, laying there for a few minutes after he finished and left without a word.

   Once again, when faced with the opportunity to assert herself, she chickened the fuck out, and Jessica finally got off the table, picking up her purse and sending a text to Gregory that she’d see him in an hour, turning it back off.

   Olivia was humming along with the television when she reemerged, asking Jess if she wanted to make another appointment, but she shook her head, telling her that she’d give her a call when she wanted to set one up. Once she was back in her car, she sat there lost in thought, no real concrete thoughts forming, just a smattering of jumbled words and emotions. Before she could analyze it to death, she marched back into the building, handing Olivia a slip of paper.

   “Can you give this to Negan after I leave?”

   Olivia’s eyes widened, and she nodded, taking the folded paper and tucking it into an envelope as Jessica fled for the door, feeling like she was making a huge, life-changing mistake.

   The barbecue place that she’d picked as a rendezvous point was clear across town, and she wanted to be early so that she could get a good spot. It was going to be packed since it was a Saturday, and the owner, Bryan, was a friend of hers. As long as she gave them advance notice, his servers would give her a prime spot, and she called the restaurant to give them a heads up that she’d be meeting someone there.

   B’s was on a quiet street in north Atlanta, a converted house now home to the best barbecue she’d ever tasted, thanks to a chance encounter with Bryan at the gallery. He’d come in looking for a few pieces when he’d started the restaurant, and they’d struck up a friendship based on love of art and good food. As she pulled along the curb, she spied Gregory, here twenty minutes early and looking around warily at the clientele.

   Oh, well. At least they could get this over with, and Jessica stepped out, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his attire. She’d told him to dress casual, and he’d obviously went out and bought a new pair of jeans, a dark blue wash that looked like dad jeans. The long, clear sticker that named the size was still sticking to the right pant leg, and he’d tucked in a crisp white button-down shirt, a brown belt sitting high on his waist and loafers that were probably never worn, the whole ensemble topped with a suede coat.

   When he noticed her approach, he broke out into a relieved smile, heading to meet her halfway, reaching out to take her hand. Jess busied herself with the strap of her purse, offering a muted hello.

   “This place is certainly…interesting,” he observed as her eyebrow rose.

   “A friend of mine owns it,” she watched him squirm uncomfortably at the news, nodding quickly. “Best barbecue in Atlanta, so I hope you brought your appetite.”

   “I can’t wait,” he swept his arm out, allowing her to walk ahead of him, and they followed behind a party of four, entering into the warm atmosphere that smelled like everything she ever loved in the world. A snapping fire, honey, spices, and happiness.

   “Jessie J!”

   Peering around a tall guy wearing a denim jacket, Jessica reached out her arms as a spitfire with brown eyes and mocha skin enveloped her in a hug.

   “Where the hell have you been?”

   “Working,” she said, holding MarLynn at an arm’s length. “I’ll be by more often now that business is slowing down for the holidays.”

   “Good,” MarLynn said, taking her by the hand and leading her through the crowd to her favorite table, right by the stone fireplace that looked over what was once a living room. “How’s Rick?”

   “We broke up,” she told her quietly as Gregory trailed behind. “I’ll tell you about it some other time.”

   MarLynn’s eyes widened in shock, sure that the two would end up married, but she recovered quickly, laying two menus on the table.

   “MarLynn, this is Gregory. This is MarLynn,” she explained as she took her seat. “She and Bryan own this awesome restaurant.”

   Gregory offered her a subdued greeting, looking around at the busy room, looking more out of place than a hog at a cotillion. Jess could see MarLynn’s mouth twist in amusement, and Jess shook her head, assuring her silently that they were not a couple.

   “What can I get you to drink, Gregory?”

   “Water is fine.”

   “I’ll be right back to take your order,” she tapped Jess on the shoulder in solidarity, disappearing into the kitchen.

   “She didn’t ask you if you wanted anything,” Gregory said, sounding put out.

   “She’s my friend,” Jess reminded him. “She knows what I want.”

   “Right. So, what’s good here?”

   “Everything. Are you a big barbecue fan?”

   “I can’t say that I have it too much,” he smiled, scanning the items with far less enthusiasm than she did. “I’ll try whatever you have.”

   MarLynn set down his water, placing a draft beer in front of Jess, who ordered the sampler for both of them. After she went to put the order in, there was an awkward silence at the table, and Jessica glanced around at the other diners, all of whom seemed to be having a good time, chatting quietly or bobbing their heads along with the blues song that was playing from the jukebox.

   “So, how do you like working at the gallery?”

   “I love it. I’ve been there since I graduated. I was actually the first person that Michonne hired. She started it in 2014, and it’s doing well.”

   They made superficial conversation as they waited for their food, though Gregory mostly talked about himself. His home, his business, how profitable it was. Boring, first date chitchat, and Jessica placed her napkin on her lap, her mouth watering automatically as MarLynn set the trays down in front of them. Gregory’s distaste was clear, but Jess could care less, thanking the other woman with a hearty smile.

   “That’s a lot of meat,” he declared, picking up his fork and knife as Jessica snorted.

   “It’s a sampler. Ribs, pulled pork, chicken. Dig in and give it a try.”

   Taking a forkful of greens, Jessica’s eyes closed in delight, giving MarLynn a thumbs up as she swallowed, ignoring Gregory picking at his food while she ate. When he finally pushed the half-eaten tray away, Jess wiped her mouth as he cleared his throat.

   She didn’t hear what he had to say because her attention was drawn to the door opening, the man walking in looking like every girl’s bad boy fantasy, down to the devilish smile, her entire being reacting instinctively. Motorcycle boots, worn jeans that hugged all the right places, a black leather jacket and a pair of riding gloves.

   “What do you say?”

   Jessica tore her eyes away to see Gregory waiting for a response, the heat of another’s gaze burning more than the fire that sat behind her, and she could feel him moving slowly towards the table.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question.”

   “I said that I’d love to take you to a little French restaurant that I know downtown next time. Their food is out of this world, not that this…” he waved towards his plate, “wasn’t good.”

   “There won’t be a next time, Gregory,” she told him firmly, gesturing towards his mustache to make him aware that he had sauce in it. “I’m not interested in you, and it would be a waste of your time and mine.”

   “I think that if you give it a chance-“

   “Clean out your fucking ears, man,” Negan said, making Gregory jump as he approached the table. “The lady said she isn’t interested.”

   “Now, just a minute,” Gregory stood up, dwarfed by Negan’s large frame. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no business here.”

   Negan gave her a quizzical look, and Jessica rose as well, coming around to Gregory’s left.

   “Gregory, enough,” she hissed, aware that everyone in the restaurant had noticed the commotion. “I said no, and it’s final. I’m not interested in you.”

   The older man’s face turned three shades of red, and he spluttered incoherently as he grabbed his jacket roughly off the chair, making it slam to the ground. “You just lost my business, young lady.”

   “If it was dependent on me sleeping with you, asshole, I don’t want it.”

   Gregory backed away, his lips smacking together, and he edged his way around her, muttering under his breath, calling her a piece of trash. Negan must’ve heard him, because he jerked towards the man and Jessica gripped his arm to keep him in place.

   “It’s fine,” she assured him, waiting until Gregory was out of sight, returning to her seat. “What are you doing here?”

   “Making sure you’re safe,” he told her, sitting across from her as the room returned to their food.

   “I just left you the address so you knew I was okay, I didn’t mean you had to come down here.”

   “Jessica, I came because I wanted to,” he rested his elbows on the table, looking her over.

   MarLynn hustled towards her, grabbing the plates and clearing them away. “Everything all right, sweetie?”

   “It’s fine. This is Negan.”

   “Pleased to meet you,” MarLynn did a double-take, mouthing a ‘wow’ as she walked away and Jessica burst out laughing, earning a pleasantly amused look from Negan.

   “What’s so funny?”

   “I just realized that weasel skipped out on the bill,” she brushed her hand over her face, sitting back. “What a dick.”

   “I’ll take care of it,” Negan said smoothly, and Jessica shook her head ‘no’.

   “I’ve got it. Have a beer with me, though?”

   Negan gave her a brilliant smile, removing his jacket to reveal muscular arms and a threadbare t-shirt, a now familiar shiver starting at the base of her spine and zipping up to her skull.

   “I actually looked this place up, and I’m dying to try the fried peach pie.”

   MarLynn came back over, and Jess ordered the desserts and more beer, turning around to find Negan studying her with his head cocked to the side. The mere gaze sent waves of heat through her skin, and she shifted in her seat, suddenly dry-mouthed. When the pie and beer were set on the table, she took a long drink, unsure of where to start.

   Negan took care of it, asking her questions about herself. How she liked her job, how she became interested in art, and she found herself becoming more at ease with the stunningly attractive man, laughing at his jokes and learning more about him. Widowed, a wife who died of cancer. Been a therapist for over a dozen years, genuinely loved it.

   MarLynn brought her check over, setting it down, and Negan grabbed it before she could, forcing Jess to snatch it out of his hands playfully, and hurriedly giving her card to her friend who ignored his calls to come back, thanking her with a smile that could set panties on fire.

   When they walked out, he placed his hand carefully on the small of her back, guiding her through the late-night crowd that had come to chow down before hitting the bars. Jess leaned against the car door as Negan placed his right hand on the side, inches from her.

   “Are you good to drive?” His voice was like a rough saw, cutting her in half, splitting who she was and who she wanted to be. Emboldened, she dug her fingers into his lapel, pulling him towards her mouth, kissing him. He reacted almost immediately, pressing his body against hers as his tongue circled hers in a dance as old as time, tasting of beer and peaches.

   Jessica lost all sense of time, the cold air making the heat of his body even more apparent, and he finally came up for breath, securing her against him in a hug.

   “That was fucking worth the wait. I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

   Pressing her lips to his cheek, and steadied herself when he let her go, reaching back unsteadily for the door handle.

   “I hope we do it again,” she whispered, sitting down roughly in her seat as he shut the door for her, watching from the street as she drove away with a smile that made her cheeks hurt.

 


	5. Chapter 5

   Michonne handed Jess a turkey sandwich, the two of them sitting across from her in the office when Andrea strolled in carrying a pink box, setting it on the desk carefully. Taking the open seat, she plucked a bag of chips from the pile, ripping them open and stuffing a few in her mouth, her foot tapping on the tile rapidly.

   “Sorry,” she muttered around bites. “Court ran late, and I grabbed some cookies on the way.”

   The three of them tried to have lunch together at least once a week, but Andrea had been MIA for the last few, busy with both her court cases and relationship troubles with Shane. Always prone to knowing everyone else’s business, she was strangely private when it came to her own life, and Jess and Michonne tried to figure out amongst themselves what was going on. 

   “Not a problem,” Michonne told her. “I got you a tuna salad, your favorite.”

   “The chips are fine.”

   “Andrea, _what_ is going on with you? You won’t eat, you won’t talk, you’ve blown us off for days. Spill.”

   “I don’t want to talk about it,” she shoved another chip in her mouth, refusing to look up. 

   “Goddamnit, tell us what’s wrong,” Jessica snapped, making both women turn to stare at her in surprise. “After setting me up with the most self-involved man on the planet, you owe me.”

   Andrea was the straightest shooter that Jess knew, and the only way to get her to respond sometimes was to just order it out of her. To her surprise, Andrea’s face crumpled, and through shuddering cries, she told them that she and Shane were through. 

   “What happened?” Michonne came around the desk, kneeling in front of the blonde and touching her knees as Jess scooted closer to her, putting her arm around her shoulders. 

   “I don’t want to say. It’s just over. He left three weeks ago. He told me that he fell in love with someone else, and he wanted to try to give it a go with her.”

    _“What? Who?”_

   “I can’t-“ she buried her face in her hands, hunching over Michonne’s shoulder, unable to continue. 

   Jess and Michonne exchanged bewildered looks as Andrea struggled to regain control of herself. She was never one to lose it like this, but on the other hand, she’d also never been cast aside in such a horrible manner. It just didn’t jibe with what Jess knew of Shane for the past few years. He always seemed completely smitten with Andrea, and they were soft with each other, so much more so than they were in every other facet of their lives. Gentle caresses, little kisses when they thought that no one else was watching.

   Where in the hell had he met someone else?

   The bell rang in the gallery, and Jessica hurried out, leaving Michonne to deal with what she herself had started, stopping suddenly when confronted with a group of men in suits, all surrounding the mayor of Atlanta. 

   “Good afternoon,” she said, approaching Phillip Blake, trying to smooth her skirt down and praying that she didn’t have any lettuce in her teeth. “Welcome to the Anthony Gallery.”

   “Ah, Miss Turner,” he smiled, striding forward and taking her hand firmly in his. “So nice to see you again.”

   “You, too, sir,” she had no clue that he’d remember her, but he seemed to recall her name just fine. “How can I help you today?”

   “As you know, the City Hall has been renovated, finally,” he chuckled good-naturedly, "and we’re in need of some new furnishings. I’d like to see if you could assist me with the artwork.”

   “Of course,” Jess tried to hide her surprise, wondering how he knew to find her here, and she gestured for him to follow her to the desk. “Any particular interests?”

   “I’m thinking classic American,” he said, “maybe landscapes or vintage Atlanta.”

   “Okay, and what’s your price range,” she wrote down the amount, fighting to keep her hands from shaking as she thought of the commission. “We have a few pieces in the gallery right now that might interest you, and if you give me a day or two, I can stop by with some other options. When doing commercial or non-residential areas, I find it best to actually see them on the wall. It provides more context, and you can get a feel for what really strikes you.”

   Mayor Blake studied her with a faint smile, the wheels turning in his head, and he glanced over as Michonne emerged from the back, eyeing her with appreciation. 

   “That would be wonderful. I must say, I can tell why Negan is so enamored of you.”

   “Negan?”

   “Yes, he’s the one that recommended me to you. He’s very…awed by you, and thinks you’d do a wonderful job.”

   “I- thank you,” she stuttered, completely thrown off as Michonne greeted the Mayor’s staff. “I had no idea that the two of you were friendly.”

   “We go way back,” he explained, letting her guide him across the large room to a few paintings that were similar to what he was looking for. “We used to run around together when we were younger men, and I’ve only ever seen him this charmed one other time in his life.”

   Jessica didn’t know what to say, assuming he was referring to Negan’s wife, and she made herself focus on the task at hand. Together, the two of them moved slowly through the gallery, and she offered information on each of the works that he seemed to like. 

   Roughly an hour later, he’d commissioned three of the paintings to be delivered, and they had a meeting scheduled for two days later, allowing her some time to procure other pieces that he’d be interested in. Leaving her with a wave, Mayor Blake and his entourage swept out as quickly as they came in, and Jessica slumped against the counter, watching Michonne dance around the open space.

   “Are you freaking kidding me?” she trilled, kicking off her shoes in celebration. “Do know how much money that’s going to be?”

   Jessica nodded vaguely, her thoughts having gone back to what Blake had said. _Awed. Charmed._ It made her giddy, and Michonne shook her lightly to get her attention back.

   “Jess, who was he talking about? Who’s so charmed by you?”

   “Uh,” she hemmed, her hands clasping together. “Where’d Andrea go?”

   It distracted Michonne briefly, and her smile faded. “She snuck out the side entrance. Once she saw that the mayor was here, she didn’t want to walk through with a puffy face and red eyes.”

   “Did you find out about this mystery woman?”

   “No, she wouldn’t say who it was. Tell me about this guy of yours,” she brought the conversation right back to Jess, and her face started to get hot. “Jessica.”

   “Mich,” she shot back in the same tone of voice. “I don’t…I don’t know if it’s a thing yet, so don’t read anything into it. I just…it’s the first guy I’ve felt anything for since Rick, and I’m not in a hurry to pursue a relationship, but I do like him.”

   “Who?”

   “Negan.”

   “The therapist guy?” she practically screeched, standing there completely gobsmacked. “Are you serious?”

   “I don’t want to talk about it,” she stalked back to the office, planting herself behind Michonne’s computer to research some artwork that might interest Blake, and Michonne sat down on the other side, biting her lip. Her boss knew when to let it go, instead offering some ideas on pieces that they could present, and helping to arrange the loans from other dealers. 

   Her mind was fractured as they left for the night, and she barely managed a goodbye to Michonne as she got into her car, her palms clammy and sticking to the wheel. 

  _Don’t do this._

_You deserve to have happiness._

   Jessica’s heart and brain were battling one another as she drove, bypassing her street as she headed towards Industrial Road, turning onto Negan’s street as a wave of terror and excitement joined the fray. By the time she parked her car, she was nearly shaking with emotion, her entire being overloaded, causing her skin to tingle and her knees to feel like jelly.

   When she opened the door, the waiting room was empty, and Olivia stood up, waving to her in surprise. 

   “Jessica, I didn’t know you had an appointment this evening.”

   “I don’t. Is Negan available?”

   “Let me call him,” she picked up the phone, murmuring into the speaker as Jessica forced herself to move forward. “Go ahead back, honey.”

   Taking tremulous steps that sounded with the slamming of her heart, she walked through the door to see Negan standing at the end of the hall, and she pushed forward towards him, stopping just in front of him and leaning against the wall, her hands behind her back. 

   “Hey,” he breathed, frowning softly as she struggled to speak. “Is everything all right?”

   “I- “ The words wouldn’t come, and he stepped forward, dangerously close to her heart. Her poor, terrified heart that wasn’t sure it could withstand any more pain. “I saw Blake today.”

   His face relaxed, his eyes dropping to her lips, licking his own unthinkingly, and she pushed herself away from the wall, closing the distance that separated them, Negan’s hands cupping her face as he kissed her, making everything disappear. It was only when the door to the lobby opened and Olivia cleared her throat that she was able to take a breath, and she turned her head to see the other woman’s pink cheeks and fluttering hands.

   “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

   “It’s fine,” Negan said, his voice sounding deeper than normal. “Go ahead and take off. I’ll lock up.”

   “Good- goodnight,” she gave Jess a nervous look before backing out and shutting the door. 

   Somewhat dazed, she let Negan take her hand and lead her into his office, a large room with a desk, two reception chairs and several diplomas on the wall. She didn’t get much time to get her bearings because he spun her around, resuming what had started in the hallway, one hand on the back of her head and the other on her lower back, growling into her lips, sending white-hot sparks through her body. 

   “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he said, brushing his nose along hers. “I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to seem too desperate after Saturday.”

   Jessica let out a shaky breath, resting her hands on his shoulders, trying to tamp down on the feelings that he was bringing forth, searching his face for something that she couldn’t define if her life depended on it. His motive, maybe? Was this just a sexual thing that they needed to exorcize, or was there more?

   There was only the ticking of a clock on the wall as they stood cheek to cheek, the warmth of their bodies just brushing each other enough to make her feel like she was falling down a hole, or like someone had opened a trap door underneath her feet, when the door opened and a woman walked in, looking startled to see her there.

   “Negan? Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes ping-ponging between the two of them. 

   “Hey, Kelly,” he said casually, not bothering to look at her, his eyes trained on Jessica’s face as she stepped back, feeling like an idiot. “Can you have a seat in the waiting room? I’ll be right there.”

   “Sure,” the woman said uncertainly, leaving them alone again.

   “I’m sorry,” Jess said, starting behind the woman. “You have a date. I didn’t mean to just show up here, I should've called.”

   “Hey, hang on a second,” he called after her, catching up to her before she reached the reception door. “It’s not a date. I have a meeting with that woman to discuss the expansion of my business.”

   “Negan, we barely know each other. You don’t owe me any explanations,” she said, a foreboding pain trickling through her chest. “You’re a single guy. You can go out with whoever you want.”  
  
   “I know that,” he said, holding her arm to keep her from walking away. “She’s just a potential investor. I set this meeting up a while ago. Believe me, if I knew I’d be seeing you tonight, I would’ve rescheduled.”

   His face was serene, the complete opposite of what was going on inside her, and she nodded agreeably, just wanting to run away. 

   “I have to go anyway,” she lied, hoping she sounded believable. “I have to meet my friends, and I just wanted to thank you for giving me such a nice recommendation to the Mayor.”

   “Are you sure?”

   “Yes, I’m fine, really. Go get that money,” she told him, sure that he bought it when he smiled, kissing her softly. 

   “I’ll call you tomorrow if that’s all right.”

   “I’d like that.”

   “Let me walk you out, then,” he linked his fingers with hers, opening the lobby door, where Kelly was sitting on one of the chairs, talking in a hushed voice on the phone. She gave them a passing glance, her foot swirling in a circle as he held up a finger to her to give him a second, and Jessica smiled at her politely, getting one in return. 

   Negan walked her to her car, promising to call her in the morning, and with another brief peck, he started towards the door, watching as she pulled out. 

   Her lips were tingling with phantom kisses, and as she glanced back in the rearview mirror, she saw him retreat back inside, the sinking feeling growing inside that he was lying to her. Because that’s what guys did when you cared too much. They lied to spare your feelings.

 

 

   Negan watched Jessica drive away, wanting to chase after her, but he stayed resolute, not having any intention of fucking this up, and when she pulled out of sight, he turned and walked back inside, locking the doors behind him and shutting off the lights as Kelly stood up, trailing behind him.

   “Who was that?”

   “None of your business,” he said over his shoulder, closing up the treatment rooms and locking the door to his office, holding open the metal door that led up to his apartment. 

   Kelly rolled her eyes, starting up the steps as he followed behind her to the top floor where he lived. She stripped off her coat as he let her inside, tossing his keys onto the table and kicking off his shoes. She was dressed professionally, at least, so he had that going for him, and he crossed the open room to the kitchen, uncorking a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses, handing one to her. 

   She tapped her nails against the glass as she stared him down, but he gave up nothing. What he did was none of her fucking concern, and Kelly knew it. They were fucking each other, that was all. He wasn’t sharing his feelings with her and he definitely didn’t give a shit what she thought. 

   “Seriously? I walk in to find you with your tongue down that girl’s throat and you’re not going to tell me about her?”

   Negan ran his index finger down her chest and around her right breast, cupping it firmly in his hand, his thumb making her nipple stand to attention, and her eyes fluttered shut as she set the wine aside.

   “Why? Is it going to keep your legs from spreading, sweetheart?” 

   Her chest pressed forward as her hands went to his pants, fondling him through the material, and he backed towards the couch, sitting down so she could straddle his waist. Her dress rose over her thighs, and he stripped it off of her, lowering the cup of her bra to suck on the now aroused nipple, Kelly’s fingers grasping his hair. “I can smell your wet panties,” he said, making her hips gyrate against his. “You’re like a bitch in heat.”

   “Fuck you,” she snapped, digging her nails into his scalp as he laughed, intending to finish what he started with Jessica. Kelly was fun, but she was just an easy lay, and he needed to blow his load, knowing that he wanted to go slow with the girl he wanted for more than just a fuck. 

   “I thought that’s what you were doing,” he switched to her other breast, his cock getting even harder when she moaned, though it wasn’t the right moan. It wasn’t throaty like Jessica’s, and he dug his fingers into her ass, forcing her to move faster. Negan could feel the dampness through his pants, and he used his other hand to finger her, blocking out thoughts of long, black hair and pink lips. 

   When she was primed, he pushed her off of him, yanking down her underwear and kicking off his pants and boxers, groaning when she lowered herself on his dick, the slick warmth enough to get him to start thrusting up, shutting his eyes. Don’t think. Just fuck.

   “Oh my God,” Kelly laughed, breaking his concentration, and he opened his eyes back up to see her smirking at him as she bounced up and down. “You _like_ her, don’t you, Negan? You actually like that poor girl. You just called out her name, didn’t you?”

   “So?” he jerked his hips up roughly, making her nearly fly off of his lap. 

   “Does she know the type of guy you are?” Kelly taunted him, rotating her hips in a circle. 

   “What type of guy am I?” he dumped her on her back, picking up the pace as she grazed her nails down his neck between whimpers, both of them getting close. 

   “You’re a bad guy,” she breathed. “You’re never going to be good enough for her. You know that, deep down. She’ll figure you out, baby. She’ll see right through you. Hell, maybe I’ll tell her myself.”

   Negan’s gaze turned red, his hand wrapping around her throat, choking off her air, and Kelly’s eyes widened, her arms flailing as he came with a grunt, keeping ahold of her neck.

   “Listen, you fucking whore,” he bent down to her lips, thrusting one last time. “If you so much as _breathe_ near her, I’ll kill you. I could choke you to death without ever leaving a mark.”

   Releasing her, she sucked in a lungful of air, scrambling out from underneath him, tears coursing down her face. 

   “You sick fucker,” she screamed, holding her dress up to her naked body as he panted, fighting the urge to strike her. “You almost killed me. I’ll call the cops, asshole.”

   Launching himself to his feet, he dragged her kicking and screaming down the steps, tossing her out the door after unlocking it, unfazed by her terror. 

   “I’ve got friends everywhere, _baby_ ,” his voice was even and smooth as she sobbed into her hands, the dress still clutched in her grasp. “If you ever fucking threaten me again, they’ll never find your body. If you even think of trying to find Jessica, I’ll know. And if I ever see your skanky ass again, you'd better run. Thanks for the lousy sex.”

   Kelly shuddered in the cold, both of them still nude, and he turned around, slamming the glass door so roughly that it wobbled back and forth, locking it again as she pulled her dress over her head, shaking so badly that she appeared to be vibrating. 

   Fuck. 

   Once she was gone for good, he walked through the dark back up to his apartment, pouring another glass of wine and sucking it down before heading to his bathroom to clean up. What a psycho whore. He should know better by now than to have a hookup come to his house. He thought that he and Kelly understood each other. No talking, no sharing. Just sex. It had been fine for months, and now?

   Stepping under the water, he washed away all evidence of her for good, letting the harsh spray hit his face as he rationalized his actions. She provoked him, and he only felt a minute sense of guilt for threatening her. But nothing was going to screw this up, not even the fact that Jessica suspected that he was lying. 

   He didn’t want to just fuck anything that walked around with tits. He wanted what he used to have with Lucille. 

    _Don’t think about her_ , the devil warned him. _Don’t think about what you had and lost. This isn’t going to end up that way._

  _It is_ , the angel argued as he turned off the water. _You’re damaged. Don’t drag her into your messy life, like Lucille._

   Lucille. Lucille. _Lucille._

   “No,” he muttered as he slid into his bed, folding the sheets under his arms. “She’s not Lucille.”

   As his brain shut down for the night, he dreamt of Lucille, how she left him forever, and he vowed that Jessica would never know how fucked up his marriage was. He was going to stop with the other women and tell her how he felt. He was ready to love again, and Jessica could be the one, with her kind eyes and gentle heart. He knew it in his soul, and so did the devil and angel.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, y'all? This Negan is dark, with a side of crazy.


	6. Chapter 6

    _She could hear him through the door as clear as if he was standing next to her. He had to know that. It was his house, after all. But it didn’t stop the words from tumbling from his mouth, each one tearing another piece of her heart into a shredded mass of pain._

_“You’re the one that wanted the divorce, not me, Lori.”_

_A pause, while she held her breath, the ache of breathing itself an excruciating task._

_“Of course, I still love you.”_

_How? After everything they’d been through, after everything she’d overcome with him, how could he say those words to her?_

_She backed away, sitting roughly on the couch as his footsteps sounded in the other room, walking over her pride and her life with him. Vaguely aware that he’d hung up, she sat in a stupor on the cushion, staring through the window to where Carl was riding his scooter, a birthday gift from Jessica._

_“Jess? When did you get here?”_

_Blue eyes that peered into hers, acknowledging at once that she’d heard everything._

_“It’s not what you think-“_

_The phone continued ringing, neither one of them answering it, just a persistent chime in the background._

 

   Jessica sat up, breathing heavily through her slumbering tears, reaching for her phone as it trilled next to her on the couch. Squinting, she didn’t recognize the number, but she answered it anyway in a rough, sleep-laden voice.

   “Hello?”

   “Hey, I’ve been calling you for the last two hours.”

   “Who is this?”

   There was an extended silence on the other line before the voice told her that it was Negan, sounding none too happy, and she rubbed her face as she set her feet on the floor.

   “God, I’m sorry,” she apologized to a stony nothingness. “I passed out on the couch, and I sleep like the dead. I don’t have your number in my phone, either.”

   “Oh,” he seemed slightly mollified, his easy manner returning bit by bit. “Go ahead back to sleep, I’ll just touch base with you tomorrow.”

   “Don’t be silly, I’m glad you called, really.”

   “You sound cute, like you’re all mussed up and warm,” he said, the low murmur of another man’s voice in the background.

   “Yeah, well, I look like a bum,” she glanced down at her flannel pants and worn t-shirt. “I laid down on my couch for a few minutes to rest my eyes, and the next thing I know, it’s already dark.”

   “I don’t suppose you want to get together for a drink?”

   “I’m not up for crowds tonight, but you’re welcome to come to my place. I have beer, I think.”

   “Love to,” he said, the sound of his voice chasing away the demons of the past, and she gave him her address, walking to the bathroom as they hung up to fix her hair and try to make herself look presentable, brushing her teeth as well. She waffled back and forth about changing her clothes, but finally decided to stay comfortable, hoping he wasn’t disappointed.

   Ten minutes later, her buzzer sounded, and she pressed the button to allow him access to her building, shaking off some residual nerves when there were a series of knocks on her door. As she opened it up, she fought a wave of pleasure at just seeing his face, dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt, holding up a pizza box that was still steaming.

   “I’d just picked up my dinner,” he smiled as she opened the door wider, and he stepped inside, looking around with interest before giving her a peck to her cheek. “Pepperoni sound okay?”

   “I’d eat a shoe if it had cheese and tomato sauce on it,” she smiled, pointing to her little kitchen. It felt weird to see him in her house, and her mind suddenly conjured up an image of the Queen of England in a bowling alley, making her shake her head as she wondered not for the thousandth time how her brain worked.

   Squeezing around his large frame, she pulled out a couple of plates, some napkins, and two beers out of the fridge, setting them on the dinette table, gesturing for him to have a seat.

   “How did your meeting go?” she asked, noting that his hand paused briefly over the pizza before taking a slice and setting it on a plate, passing it over to her. 

   “Like I thought it would. She tried to screw me over and I told her to get lost.”

   “I know nothing about financial issues,” Jess said, picking up the slice and holding it to her lips, “but I guess I don’t understand why you’d meet with someone that you suspected wasn’t on the up and up.”

   Negan’s eyebrow rose, and he smoothly took another piece, forgoing the plate and taking a large bite before answering.

   “I like to get the true measure of people,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I wanted to see if she really thought I was that gullible, and she did.”

   “Ah.”

   “You don’t believe me?”

   “I barely know you, Negan,” she said gently, wiping her fingers on her own napkin. “If you were really on a date with her, it’s not my place to say anything.”

   “Jessica-“

   “Let me finish,” she asked, meeting his eyes as she saw his impatience growing. “We haven’t known each other long, and I’ve seen you three different times with as many different women. You’re a very attractive man, so it’s quite understandable that you have your fair share of admirers.”

   “I’ve been widowed for a long time,” he told her, setting his pizza down and taking her hand in his. “And to be frank, I haven’t come across any woman that I’ve wanted to see more than once or twice. I’ll never claim to be an angel, but I really like you. You’re the first person in so long that makes me feel…feel like I'm missing out, I guess would be the best way to describe it. I want to have someone special, and I want to know you better. I like to imagine what makes you tick,” he turned his attention towards her fingers, stroking them lightly. “And I can’t for the fucking life of me figure out how a girl as beautiful and sharp as you is still single.”

   Jessica reeled back without thinking, causing his head to shoot up, and he let go of her hand as she downed her beer, getting to her feet and going to her couch automatically, bringing her knees up to her chest.

   “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized, sitting down next to her. “I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

   “You didn’t,” she shook her head, feeling like an asshole. “I was in a serious relationship, and it didn’t…I couldn’t face the fact that he had one foot in the past the entire time we were together,” the cloud of her dream hanging over her. “My boyfriend was divorced, and he and I were involved for a few years. I thought we were happy. I thought _he_ was happy.”

   “Rick?” Negan guessed, gently squeezing her knee in encouragement, and her eyes narrowed as he shrugged. “You listed him on your emergency contact form.”

   “Shit, that's right.”

   “What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

   “Listen, I know it’s nothing compared to losing your wife,” she qualified, not wanting him to think that her pain in any way compared to his, but he shook his head, absolving her of the feeling, “but not long after Carl- his son’s birthday, I walked in on him talking to his ex-wife, who never liked me, by the way, and he admitted that he still loved her, reminding her that he wasn’t the one that wanted the divorce. I mean, I knew that already, but hearing it in that wistful voice of his, I just…it hurt. Really hurt. I thought that we were moving forward together, and we weren’t, because she was never going to let him go, and he didn't want to be released.”

   “I don’t know this guy,” Negan said, giving her a sympathetic smile, his face gentler than she thought it could be, “but any man would be crazy to not be head over heels in love with you, and I don’t see how any other woman could compare.”  
  
   Her cheeks turned pink, and Jessica shifted in her seat, that warm buzzing in her heart reminding her that she was still here, still capable of feelings, but he wasn’t done. 

   “If it was me, I would’ve told her to pound sand. A guy fights for what he wants, and he won’t give up or settle for anything less than everything. So, fuck this guy, in my humble opinion, and fuck the woman that made you feel so bad.”

   Negan reached out, brushing her cheek, and Jessica blinked as his fingers came away wet, unaware that she’d been crying. 

   “I’m not saying I’m a saint,” he said, a sparkle flitting through his eyes when she captured his hand as he pulled away. “I’ve done plenty of things I’ve regretted, and when Lucille told me she was sick, it put everything in perspective, though it was too late. I’d wasted time that I could’ve spent with her doing reprehensible shit, and I lost her. It sent me into a spiral, Jess, one that I’m just now coming out of. I know that’s a lot to throw on you, but there’s just _something_ about you, I can’t explain it. I like you, I really do, and I just want you to give me a chance.”

   “I like you, too, Negan,” she murmured, seeing blue eyes mixing with brown ones, and she sat up, using her free hand to tentatively stroke his hair, his eyes closing as he smiled. “I want to know you better, too. I just want you to understand that I don’t screw around. I’m more of a one-man kind of woman, so if you still want to see other people, just be upfront about it. Please.”

   His eyes flew open and his mouth dropped, prompting her to sit back. “I’m not a fool, and I’m not a hopeless romantic either. I don’t expect you to fall head over heels for me, and I’ve been around long enough to know when –“

   “I don’t want to date other women,” he interrupted her, his voice sharpening enough that her eyebrows rose. “I want to see _you_. I want to take you out and learn about art shit. I want to show you my factory and the plans I have for it. And I want you to let me kiss you.”

   Without waiting for her to answer, he leaned forward, letting his upper lip brush against hers. “You just need to let me in.”

   Could she? Could she trust him not to hurt her like Rick? There was no way to know for sure, but she didn’t want to sit on the sidelines of her life anymore, and she met him halfway, opening her mouth and her heart at the same time, the little moan that emanated from his chest stoking the fire between her legs. Somehow, she ended up on her back with him suckling the spot just under her ear, and there was a rush of blood to the area as his warm tongue swept back and forth, that same feeling of falling taking hold.

   “Jesus,” Negan moaned into her shirt, his breath soaking the thin cotton, “you are fucking killing me right now.”

   Reluctantly, she let him go, and he sat up, all flush and gorgeous, though he looked at her like she was the prize. 

   “In order to preserve this courtship,” he helped her to a sitting position, “I’m going to sit on the other side of the couch.”

   A breathy laugh escaped her, and she combed her fingers through her hair, the spot that he’d been nuzzling all hot and scratchy. “Probably a good idea.”

   It was weird and appreciated that he was willing to slow things down, and they spent the next few hours just talking and eating pizza, sharing more about themselves. Favorite foods, the last concert they went to. He was funnier than she thought, and he swore a lot more than she’d realized, not that it bothered her, and when he finally rose to go, he asked her for her phone, typing in her number with a wink.

   “Now you know when I’m calling, and you won’t fucking ignore me again.”

   “I was sleeping,” she reminded him with a small roll of her eyes, laying her head on the door frame. “Will I see you tomorrow, or do you have plans?”

   “I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, whistling as he walked down the hallway. “Be dressed casually.”

   Once he was out of sight, she shut and locked the door, exhaling soundly, feeling like she’d been holding her breath the entire time, and as she turned off the lights and headed to her room, the dream about Rick no longer seemed so present in her mind, her thoughts on Negan and the way he looked at her, like he had to have her. It was nice to be wanted in a way that she'd thought she'd been before.

 

 

   The next morning, she and Aaron left the gallery with the three paintings that were to go into the Mayor’s office, greeting the head of security as he inspected the wrapped packages, finally escorting them to the top floor, where the Mayor’s secretary, Karen, showed them into a conference room, returning with coffee and a check, sealed in an envelope that was stamped with the official seal of Atlanta.

   Jess put it in her purse, taking in the refurbished room, her mind immediately critiquing the bland paint on the walls and the wood trim that was just a shade too light.

   “Reel it in, Jess,” Aaron whispered, poking her in the side as the door opened and Phillip Blake came in, greeting them both with a hearty handshake, welcoming them to City Hall. Aaron carefully unwrapped the artwork, leaning it against the wall as Blake rubbed his chin, thinking about where to place them.

   “May I interject?” Jessica spoke up, catching his attention, and he inclined his head.

   “Please.”

   She spent the next few minutes offering suggestions, and the two of them nailed down where they should go, Aaron placing them in the corresponding spots. Once that was taken care of, she had him take out the pieces that were on loan, pointing out the differences between them, though all were appropriate for a government building.   
With the exception of one, a portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr, that he wanted for his own home, all of the paintings were purchased, and she made arrangements for the transfer of ownership, using her contacts to get them for a third less than their list price, earning herself his goodwill. 

   “I must say, Miss Turner,” he rested his hand on her shoulder as Aaron took the dolly out to the elevator, “you have a real knack for this. Do you ever do any design work?”

   It caught her off guard, the idea that someone wanted to hear her ideas when it wasn’t related to the gallery. 

   “I haven’t,” she confessed as he clucked at her.

   “You might want to think about it, and if you change your mind, give me a call,” he said as his secretary came and swept him away, handing him a stack of messages. Aaron was holding the elevator for her, and she hustled towards him, her heels clicking on the tiles, collapsing against the interior as he grinned at her. 

   “Michonne is going to have a heart attack,” he hugged her, picking her up off her feet, no east feat since she was taller than he was, but she let her right leg drift up like the lead in a romantic movie, nearly dumping her purse onto the floor. “We’re gonna be rich,” he sang as she laughed, patting him to set her down. 

   Phillip Blake had given her a chance because of Negan, but the opportunity gave her confidence, and the confidence and belief in her abilities got the paintings sold and presented her with a career possibility for the future, and in an impulsive move, she sent him a text with that smiling emoji that had hearts for eyes, acutely embarrassed as soon as her phone made that swooping sound.

   She wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking, and she bumped into someone hard, stumbling back with an apology when she looked up and saw that it was Kelly, the investor that Negan had met with a few days before. She was wearing a badge that identified her as Kelly Caplan, liaison for the Atlanta city planners office. 

   For her part, Kelly’s face paled when she recognized Jessica, her hands shaking as her papers slipped from her hands and scattered across the floor. With a sinking feeling, Jessica bent down, gathering them up as the other woman stood frozen in one spot, straightening up and holding them out to her.

   “Are you all right?” she asked, making Kelly jerk back in fear, and she snatched the papers back, muttering under her breath as she skirted past her.

   “He’s not who you think he is.”

   Jessica stared after her blankly, that same sense of doom hovering over her head as Kelly disappeared around the corner, leaving her standing alone even though there were dozens of people milling around. 


	7. Chapter 7

   After a series of knocks, the front door opened as Jessica was putting in her earrings, hearing a sharp whistle behind her a few seconds later. 

   “Well, _hello_ , gorgeous!”

   Catching Negan’s eye in the mirror, she smiled as he stared at her hungrily, turning in a slow circle so that he could get the full effect of her dress, the thigh slit gifting him with a flash of leg.

   “You like?”

   “I like,” he stalked forward, the cut of his jacket making him look even more jacked than he already was, and Jess leaned her ass against the dresser as she stepped into her heels, using his hands for support to steady herself. 

   “Well, then, kiss me before I put my lipstick on,” she lifted her head, puckering her lips. Negan’s hands went from her elbows to her waist, jerking her against him as his lips got firmer against hers, his tongue sending electric jolts down her spine, and she pulled away reluctantly, shivering as his fingers tickled her back, finding her tattoo like he always did. “We’re going to be late,” she sighed, scooting around him towards the living room where her coat was laid out. 

   “So?” he sounded like a child, starting for the door, and she chuckled as he held it open for her, taking her hand once they were in the hallway.

   “This is your friend’s party,” Jess reminded him as he helped her into the car, shutting the door without answering, and she studied him as he came around the front. Dressed in a black suit and gold tie, he matched her outfit, though grudgingly. She’d asked him to coordinate with her, wanting to match for the holiday party that Phillip Blake was throwing. 

   Since she and Negan started dating, there had been a distinct uptick in the number of high- profile social functions that Jessica was now ‘required’ to attend as his date, not that she minded. It had opened her up to a rich, colorful world that enriched her work life and her personal one. 

   Negan was silent as he put the car into gear, joining the traffic as they headed downtown, and she leaned over, placing a kiss to his cheek, even though he stared straight ahead. He was prone to moodiness, though she could usually thaw him out, and when it didn’t work, she nibbled on his ear. “It’s something to look forward to, honey.”

   He exhaled slowly, using his right hand to graze her cheek, and Jess sat back, slightly annoyed that Negan was starting New Year’s Eve on a sullen note. Their sex life was beyond reproach, and he was always up for a good time. She had no complaints there, but it seemed to dominate a large part of his life. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attentive, or able to hold a conversation. They went to museums and movies, or they spent nights holed up in his factory, but there was a physical element to it all. A hand clamped on her thigh or brushing her hip. It was almost that he did it without thinking, and it irritated her sometimes when she was trying to discuss something important with him.

   She’d had affectionate boyfriends before, even Rick. But Negan was always…sexual. Dominating, and a part of her that she never knew existed responded almost every time. He’d unlocked a craving that she didn’t understand. Still, he was always doting, always there for her, and she looked out into the dark as they drove, one hand reaching for his.

   The New Year’s Eve ball was being held in the grand ballroom of the Clairmont Hotel, another fabulous old building that had stood the test of time, a standout amongst the steel and glass towers that surrounded it. Classic columns, slate walls, and craftsmanship that made her mouth water. When they joined the other partygoers that were streaming in, Negan pulled up to the valet, tipping the young guy generously, and he skirted the edge of his Mercedes to beat the other attendant to the door, helping her out with a smile.

   “Sorry, gorgeous,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I just get so worked up sometimes. You’re almost too much for me.”

   Jessica squeezed his hand reassuringly, letting the little snit roll off of her back, and they walked together in the cold towards the entrance. When he’d first broached spending the night at a fancy party, she’d balked, until he said that the cost of the tickets was going towards the local homeless shelters and food pantries. Most of her New Year’s celebrations were spent on the couch watching the ball drop with a plastic glass of champagne, and the most recent three were with Rick’s head in her lap, shaking him awake for a first of the year kiss.

   “There you are!”

   A blonde tornado appeared out of nowhere, hugging her as she nearly tumbled backward, and Negan steadied her with a chuckle, waiting until Andrea released her to help Jess out of her coat. 

   “How drunk are you?” 

   Andrea laughed as they watched Negan stroll towards the coat check, shaking hands and greeting other couples. “No, I’m just glad to see someone that doesn’t have a silver spoon shoved up their ass,” she stage-whispered, her attention drawn towards Phillip Blake, who was slowly making his way through the crowd, ever the politician. 

   When Jess had introduced them just as December dawned, she had no idea that they’d hit it off so well, especially since she was still mourning the end of her relationship with Shane. But there was an immediate attraction, an intellectual equal who could go toe to toe with her, and they seemed to be on the fast track to something serious.

   “Miss Turner,” Blake said jokingly, since they’d long since passed the formality, giving her a peck on the cheek. “So nice of you to join us tonight.”

   “Ease up, Governor,” Andrea teased him, knowing where he eventually wanted to end up. “She’s mine for the night.”

   “Actually, she’s mine,” Negan hugged her from behind before reaching to shake his old friend’s hand, chucking Andrea under the chin. “I’m looking forward to a midnight kiss.”

   “I see it, but I can’t really believe it,” Blake herded them towards the ballroom, sounding awed. “You’re tied down with one woman for the first time since…”

   Negan’s hand tightened around hers, making the blood pool, and she placed her other one on top of his to get him to let up. His face was a blank mask for a split second, a void of emotion as he stared straight ahead, blinking a few times before finally easing up, and Jess flexed her fingers, another blonde catching her eye, and she thought back to the scattered papers on the floor and seven words uttered lowly as she fled.

    _“He’s not who you think he is.”_

   Tingling fear. Nervousness. The feeling that she’d stepped into a situation without knowing anything about it. They were carefully chosen and used in that particular order to elicit that exact response, and she walked away in a daze, finding herself sitting in front of her computer when she got home, unsure of what she was doing. 

   They were in a new world, where people did background checks before going on dates, and researching potential mates for missed signs. But did she really need to dig into the personal life of someone that lived in the semi-public eye? 

    _Yes,_ her gut told her. _You need to know if there’s something there, or if it was just sour grapes._

   So, she typed his full name into the data search, a trickle of relief when articles came up, mostly talking about his job or his connections to the Mayor. An ancestry search told her that his parents were deceased, no siblings, and her mouse hovered over his marital connection, a birth date and a death date, staring her in the face. _Lucille_. Born September 3, 1974. Died May 5, 2006. 

   There was no obituary. Just a notice of death, and she was struck by it for some reason, maybe it was because outside of the people that loved us, we all boiled down to a series of numbers. Birth and death. Our marks on the world at large were set to dates. 

   Sitting back, Jessica became lost in thought, curious as to what her friends and family would say about her if she was gone. 

    _Jessica was a sweet woman._

_Jessica wanted to make the world beautiful._

_Jessica died alone._

   Overcome with emotions that she wasn’t ready to deal with, she grabbed her keys and left her apartment, her silent and lonely apartment, driving towards a big, grey factory that stood apart from everything else, not even noticing that he’d responded to her text with a response of his own. A kiss and a heart, and when she stumbled through the doors, she bypassed Olivia without a word, barging into his office where he was writing in a chart. 

   He’d looked up in surprise, his face going slack as he saw how out of sorts she was, and when he stood up, she’d launched herself towards him, unaware of what was happening until they were flat on a mattress, Negan hovering over her on his knees as she wrapped her legs around his waist, wanting him to fill the space between those two dates in her life. 

 

    Blinking herself back to the present, she watched him head towards the bar as Andrea took the seat next to her, chattering about a trip that she and Phillip were taking after the holidays to San Francisco. 

   “You’re really okay,” she blurted out as Andrea sat back in surprise. 

   “What do you mean?”

   “I don’t know,” she said, immediately overcome with embarrassment. “I…just thought of that day in the gallery, when you were inconsolable over Shane and, I don’t know. I mean, it’s great,” Jessica added as Andrea’s eyes raked over her face. “Don’t mind me. I don’t know what’s going through my head.”

   “I do,” Andrea murmured, leaning forward. “It’s okay that we’re _both_ good. Moving on from Rick doesn’t mean that you didn’t really love him, or that I didn’t love Shane. They weren’t the right ones, though, because if they were, we’d be with them. I don’t know Negan that well, but I see the way he looks at you, and it makes me happy for you, Jess. The man cares about you.”

   She could feel his eyes on her, and when she turned her head, he was heading their way with drinks, setting them down on the table as he bent low, whispering in her ear. 

   “Are you okay, gorgeous? You look like you’re about to burst into tears.”

   “Excuse me,” Andrea stood up, taking Phillip’s hand when he approached, the couple of the hour greeting new arrivals as the party started to get in full swing.

   “I’m fine,” she sipped on her wine, letting Negan help her up, the two of them slowly winding their way around the room, talking to other couples and holding hands as waiters came around with hors d’oeuvres. Shaking off her weird mood like raindrops from a sudden summer storm, they drank and ate their way through the evening, until just before midnight when he whisked her onto the middle of the dance floor, resting his cheek next to hers.

   “Having fun?”

   “Mmmhmm,” she murmured, tightening her arm around the back of his neck. “Though I would’ve had just as much fun at home on your couch.”

   “Fuck yeah,” he growled, discreetly rubbing his pelvis against hers as she laughed into his ear. “I’d love to have your legs sprawled across my lap right now.”

   “Oh, I know you would, especially since I’m not wearing anything under my dress. _Anything_.”

   “Let’s go,” he tried to guide her off of the dance floor, and she turned him back, using her chest to push him further into the crowd. 

   “Not until I get my New Year’s kiss.”

   “Then I won’t be responsible for what I do once we’re alone, gorgeous.”

   “It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Jessica rubbed the pads of her fingers along the back of his neck, puffing her lips out as he glanced at the large clock above the stage. “You can hold out for a few more minutes.”

   Negan bent his head so that their foreheads were touching, sending a warmth of affection through her, her eyes closing as she hummed happily. 

   The lights flickered as the seconds ticked off, though she and Negan continued to move slowly together, counting down silently until they got to one. Everyone around them cheered, and she tilted her face towards his as Auld Lang Syne started to play, losing herself in his lips, his smell, his embrace. 

   “Happy New Year, gorgeous,” he whispered into her mouth, seeking another kiss, and she said it back, the sounds of the crowd bleeding into their little bubble. “Can we go, now?”

   Grinning, she nodded her head, his fingers rubbing the little birds on her back, sending her further into his arms, and he spirited her out of the room before anyone noticed they were gone, retrieving their coats and handing the valet their ticket. While they waited, she laid her head on his shoulder, watching the puffs of air from their breaths as they drifted into the night air. 

   The car was reasonably warm as they left the lights of the city, and she could feel his fingers as they tested the slit of her dress, one cold finger slipping under it to check for any resistance. When he found none, the rest of his hand followed, and she spread her legs, allowing him to feel for sure that she wasn’t lying. 

   “So fucking warm and wet,” he said, using his middle finger to stroke her folds, teasing her as she fidgeted around him. “What should I do, here?” he seemed to be talking to himself as they careened around another car, the small space becoming uncomfortably hot. “Should I do _this_?” he gave the nub a circling rub, “Or this?” he stuck two fingers inside her, wiggling them as she moaned. 

   “Negan,” she panted as he switched back and forth between stroking and thrusting, bracing her hands on either side of her thighs, throwing her head back as the sensations ratcheted up, bringing her to the edge of everything when he pulled his hand free, making her eyes fly open. “Why’d you stop?”

   The lights from a passing car lit up his face, and she became abruptly irritated at the smugness that it was drenched in, even as he licked his fingers, sticking his tongue out to clean them off. “Because I told you that you weren’t going to like what I did once we were alone, Jessica.”

   “That’s not fair. I would never do that to you.”

   “You do it all the time,” he laughed, rubbing his hands dry on his pants. “Every time you flash that naughty little tattoo in front of me. Each time you bend over, sticking your round ass in my face. You do it and you don’t care,” the car sped up once they got onto Industrial Road, the trees speeding by in the dark, their bare branches like outstretched claws. 

   Pulling around the back of the building to his private entrance, she was out of the car before he’d shut it off, making it to the door before he caught up with her, picking her up with a grunt and tossing her over his shoulder, smacking her ass so hard that it echoed in the night, the sound reverberating off of the wall.

   “Put me down, you asshole,” she struggled to get free, but there was nowhere to go since she was hanging down over his back. “I don’t need you to get me off, I can do it myself.”

   “No fucking way,” the door creaked open, and they started to move, making her dizzy from being upside down, so she went limp as his hand caressed the burning spot on her ass cheek. He climbed the steps up to his floor with little effort, dumping her on the couch when they got inside. Before she could get free, he tackled her, pinning her arms above her head. “Come on, baby, let’s start the new year off with a bang.”

   One hand kept her wrists together, and the other went back between her legs, a smile spreading across his face when he felt how wet she still was, inserting three fingers at once as her hips jutted up automatically. 

   Negan loved this. He got off on withholding sexual pleasure until the last possible moment, and she bit back a moan, refusing to give him what he wanted, locking fiery eyes with his as he increased his pace, moving in and out so rapidly that it was like the pistons in an engine, and when he let her go, she dug her nails into his neck, dumping him onto the floor with a huff. 

   It did nothing to abate the smile, and she tumbled onto his chest, straddling him and reaching behind to unzip his pants as he put his hands behind his head, the flush in his cheeks matching hers. Once he was free, Jessica lifted her dress, flashing him as she ground herself on his dick, inching her way down until her thighs rested securely against his. Far better than his fingers could ever be, she started to move, letting him get to a sitting position, the sensation of his tongue along the side of her neck making her walls clench around him, and Jess ripped the buttons of his shirt open, several of them scattering as they bounced onto the floor.

   Half-dressed, fully aroused and sweating, she slumped forwards as he lifted her up and down, finally switching positions once again, her bare back touching the cool floor, making her shiver as he lowered the straps of her dress, freeing her arms and her torso, hiking her knees and setting her calves on his forearms, fine beads of perspiration coating his forehead.

   “I love you, Jess,” he muttered, driving himself as deep as he could go inside her, kissing her with fractured breaths. “I love your body, I love your mind, and I love that you’re strong, strong enough to stand up to me.” 

   She was close, closer than she’d been all night, and with her last bit of sanity, Jessica hugged him tightly, the warm explosion between her legs making her cry into his ear, the words coming out on their own. 

   “I love you, too, Negan.”

 

 

     
   Rick groaned as he sat up, the ache in his bones exacerbated by spending the night on the couch. He hadn’t meant to, that’s for sure. It was a habit from years past, curling up in front of the television, though this New Year’s Eve had been the worst since Lori had walked out the door, taking Carl with her. 

   Because he’d screwed up. He’d let the past win out, let Lori fuck with his head again, and now he was alone. 

   Carl stayed with him half the time, four days the first week and three the second. Since Lori was in the same town, he didn’t have to switch schools, and most of his life remained the same. He had friends here in his old neighborhood and people he could hang with at his mom’s. 

   When Jessica had overheard him telling Lori that he wasn’t the one that wanted the divorce, that had been the truth. He’d been blindsided on the spring day, setting his keys in the dish by the front door, coming in to see her sitting at the dining room table with an envelope in front of her. 

   They’d had their share of arguments, that was true. But most married people he knew did, especially after so many years together. And yeah, their sex life wasn’t the best, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d committed to her till death they did part. But Lori didn’t feel the same way. She was ‘bored’. She was ‘unfulfilled’. 

   Counseling wasn’t an option, she’d said.

   “This isn’t what I want. This isn’t the person I want to be,” she’d said, pushing the divorce papers towards him. “You’re a good father. I just don’t feel the same way about you as a partner.”

   While he wallowed in misery for the first six months, she’d blossomed, buying a new house with his money and enrolling in college. Carl would casually mention that a new guy had come to take her out on a date as they ate reheated lasagna that came from the freezer section, and it struck Rick that he was sending the wrong message to his son. He was giving him the impression that he couldn’t survive without Lori, not that he wanted to.

   Until he became hopelessly confused when he walked into the Anthony gallery, looking for new pictures to replace the ones that Lori had taken with her, and a woman with a dazzling smile and blue-grey eyes asked him if he needed any help. 

   Rick had never been a ladies’ man, and everyone had known it, so it wasn’t out of character for him to make a fool of himself, but this woman was patient as he haltingly explained what he was looking for, and she showed him to the back corner of the gallery, pointing out a few pictures that were as close to his price range as possible. 

   “This isn’t an original, but it’s a flawless rendition of Boulier’s Garden,” she said, gesturing towards a serene meadow, dotted with light blue that would look nice in his living room. “It’s been in our stock for a while, so I can give it to you for half-price.”

   “Are you sure?”

   “Absolutely, if you’re interested.”

   “I’m very interested,” he blurted out, looking at her face instead of the artwork, and her lips twitched as he felt his face get hot, clearing his throat. “In the painting…I mean. Not that…”

   “Of course,” she said in a smooth voice, picking it up and walking back to the front of the gallery, setting it on the counter as he pulled his credit card from his wallet, wanting to run screaming for the hills. Looking around as she wrapped the picture in brown paper, she handed him his card back, tucking the receipt into the seam of the wrapper, smiling brightly. “Have a nice day, Mr. Grimes.”

   “Right, you, too, uh..”

   “Jessica.”

   “You, too, Jessica.”

   Tucking his new artwork under his arm, he walked stiffly towards the door, an unfamiliar ache in his chest as he stepped outside, setting the portrait in his front seat and plucking the receipt out, his heart nearly exploding in his ribs. Written in dainty letters was a personal note and a phone number, a moronic grin forming as he read it. 

    _‘Give me a call if you need help putting this up.'_

   It was probably given with pity, the kind that was reserved for newly divorced men that had no game whatsoever, but Rick would take it, and he did, placing that first phone call with clammy hands a day later.

 

    
   Now, he sat up, six months after she’d rightfully walked out because he wasn’t smart enough to keep her from doing so, spending the first morning of a brand new year with a throbbing back and an empty heart. 

   Carl was due to come home that afternoon, and he flipped on the television, leaving it on ‘Good Morning, Atlanta’ while he fixed himself a cup of coffee, turning up the heat just a little to chase away the cold that never seemed to leave since he found himself all alone once again. 

   Taking a sip, he watched the screen with little interest as they wrapped up the previous night’s festivities, running a story about the Mayor’s annual ball, setting the mug on his knee.

   “Revelers came out in force last night,” Chelsea Goodrich said, cutting to footage from the fancy party, “all in support of the Mayor’s initiative to help Atlanta’s homeless. Partygoers paid for the tickets, donating to the local shelters and food banks, and they were treated to dinner, drinks, and music. The miniature crystal ball dropped at midnight, and folks were all too happy to ring in the new year with a kiss.”

   Coffee spilled onto his knee as his hand jerked in surprise, prompting him to cry out as he stood up, slamming the mug onto the coffee table, jumping out of his seat. The remote was sitting on the couch, and he clumsily rewound the story, freezing the picture as his stomach roiled in pain. 

   There on the screen, wrapped up in another man’s arms was Jessica, looking beautiful and happy, kissing him with a smile that pierced his soul. 

   She’d moved on, all because he wasn’t strong enough to make her stay.   



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and lovely comments! I'm having a ball with this 'dark' Negan, and this is a shorter chapter as we make our initial descent into Crazytown. Buckle up, because it's getting bumpier. Also, fair warning, there is some dubious sex stuff in this chapter!

   The waiting room of the Sanctuary Wellness Center was still full when Jessica walked in, carrying some food for Negan and a bag of clothes to spend the weekend in. Greeting Olivia with a fist bump, she headed back to his office, setting the bag on the floor and the food on his desk. When she’d called to check in earlier, he sounded flustered and tired, overworked from the litany of patients who’d set up appointments after the drudgery of January.

   She wanted to cheer him up, so the food was part one, and when he was done working, part two would commence. Scrolling through her phone, she logged onto Facebook, a smile breaking out when a picture of Carl came up, holding a handmade sign asking his girlfriend Enid to the Valentine’s Day dance that was coming up the following weekend. 

   A pang of sadness settled in her gut almost immediately after that first flush of happiness, all too aware that she was missing out on what was once an important part of her life. Carl had started dating the young girl the previous spring, and she’d watched young love bloom before Rick’s shocking admission, and it still hurt to this day that she was cut out of his life. To Carl, the fact that she’d packed up and left so abruptly was a betrayal, and she was thankful that he hadn’t unfriended her, at least, though she left no comments or likes on his infrequent updates. To this day, she wasn't sure what Rick had finally told him, and it sucked to be on the outside looking in at his life.

   It was nice to see that he was happy, with his blue eyes, so much like Rick’s twinkling in joy and excitement, the poster filled with candy bars and matching sayings, like ‘You’re the best girlfriend in the Milky Way’ and ‘I’d love to call you my Sweetart’.

   The door opened, making her jump, and Jessica shut the phone quickly as Negan trudged through, kissing the top of her head. 

   “My fucking arms hurt,” he groaned, sitting down behind the desk. “I scheduled way too many people for one day.”

   “Can you reschedule some of them?”

   “I’m booked solid through the next two weeks,” he reminded her, opening the Styrofoam container and digging into the chicken parmesan. “I’m going to need to bring someone in to carry the load now that I’m renovating. It’s too fucking much for one man.”

   “I agree. Olivia can run an ad for you, I'm sure.”

   “Nah. I know a guy that I went to school with. He’s living in Virginia right now, but I think I can sweet talk him into moving here.”

   “All right,” she said, leaning over the desk to give him a kiss, coming away with saucy lips. “I’ll see you upstairs. Maybe we can turn this day around for you.”

   He perked up slightly at that, and she grabbed her bag, heading for the office entrance to his apartment. The middle two floors were a wreck since the construction had started, both levels being turned into retreat rooms. Negan’s next venture was to make the factory a complete spa, with saunas, cold rooms, an indoor and outdoor pool, hydrotherapy, and a salt room. Looking to become the premier wellness destination in Atlanta, he was pouring every cent he had, including his inheritance from his parents into making the factory state of the art. 

   When he’d shown her around, she’d become caught up in the excitement as he painted the picture in her head. To surprise him, she’d started pricing artwork that could adorn the rooms, furniture, even toiletries in bulk, compiling a list for him. But for tonight, she wanted to take care of him, and it started with changing her clothes and tarting herself up.

   As he worked, she laid out her clothes, cringing internally as they stared up at her, and with a slight shake of her head, she stripped down, putting on things that she never in her life ever thought that she’d purchase, avoiding the full-length mirror as she went into the bathroom to wash her face and reapply her makeup.

   Bright eyeshadow, thick liner, and hot pink lips looked out of place on her normally understated features. Checking her watch, she brushed her hair, placing it in a high ponytail on her head before grabbing a cherry red lollipop from her supplies and taking it into the living room. 

   Pacing for fifteen minutes, she finally removed the wrapper, sticking the sickly sweet candy in her mouth, her heart thudding in her chest from embarrassment and anticipation when she heard his footsteps coming up the metal staircase. 

   The door opened slowly, and her head popped up over the couch cushion where she’d positioned herself in an obscene pose, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as he approached. When he got close enough to see what she was wearing, he swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists while she ran the sucker along her lips.

   “What in the everloving _fuck_ are you wearing?” he asked in a strangled voice, making her smile, a bulge in his jeans. 

   “Didn’t I get the outfit right?”

   “What outfit?”

   Swinging her legs onto the floor, Jess stood up, giving him the complete look, turning around and wiggling her ass as she heard heavy breathing behind her. 

   “Come on,” she goaded him, pointing the stick towards him. “I’ve seen the porno you watch when you think I’m sleeping.”

   “Porno?”

   “You know. The one with the girl wearing rainbow thigh-high stockings? The toddler shirt that barely covers her breasts? The tiny little shorts?”

   It wasn't like she cared that he watched porn. She wasn't adverse to using it herself when she just wanted a quick fix, and Jess batted her eyelashes at him with a lick of the red candy.

   “Jessica, I swear to fucking Christ if you don’t take that shit off…”

   “Why don’t you take it off for me?” 

   Dancing out of his reach, she took off for the bedroom with him right behind her, crawling onto the bed as he took off his pants, and when she looked back, she was strangely frightened by the way he was staring at her, like he was going to break her in half, and her face froze until he snatched the lollipop from her mouth, flinging it behind him. 

   “Get on your back,” he barked, removing his shirt. Her legs were shaky as she lay back, bending her knees, and he ran his hands up the stockings, stopping at the top of her thighs. “You wanna dress like a little slut? Then I’ll fuck you like a slut.”

   The words made her entire body tingle, and she reached out for him, but he slapped her hands away, yanking the shorts off in one quick movement, balling them up and dropping them on the bed. 

   “Negan-“

   “Shut up.”

   Kneeling on the ground, he dug his fingers into the soft spot behind her knees, pulling her forward so that his head was between her thighs, biting the flesh with his teeth as she yelped in surprise, sucking in her breath when he buried his face before she could process what was happening, the strokes of his tongue making her see stars. 

   Reaching out, she tried to grab his hair to get him to slow down, but he pushed her hands away, sliding one of his up her belly to lift her shirt, pinching each nipple while the other pushed her thigh up for more access. It only took a few minutes of attention for her to come, a dizzying sensation as she lay panting until he sat her up, lifting the shirt over her head. Negan was flushed red and his pupils were dilated so that they were almost completely black, and he picked her up, turning her onto her hands and knees as she tried to steady herself.

   “Fucking slut,” he mumbled, positioning himself behind her as she continued to breathe heavily. “Gonna pound you into nothing.”

   It wasn’t said in an ominous tone, but she got a zip of fear that ran up her spine. He entered her slowly, thrusting himself inside until his hips met the back of her thighs, and he massaged her back, a gentle caress that made her feel calmer as he pumped his length in and out. This interlude had started off oddly, but she relaxed as he retained control, dipping her head to look between her legs, enjoying watching the muscles of his thighs constrict as he picked up the pace.

   Everything fell apart when he grabbed ahold of her ponytail, jerking her head upright and sending a sharp pain through her neck. 

   “Ouch! Negan, let go! You're hurting me!”

   Her neck and shoulders were on fire as he clamped down even harder, using the other hand to lock her hips in place, and she went numb, freezing in place as he kept her head taut against her back, abrupt fear washing over her as he fucked her harder and harder, his fingers making her hip bone start to throb even as his skin slapped loudly against hers. How long it went on, she didn’t know, but there was a sudden gush of warmth in her womb, and he released her hair, dropping his head onto her back, setting her free.

   Her body went into fight or flight mode, and she elbowed him in the head, making him rock back off of her, allowing her to scramble towards the edge of the bed.

   “What the fuck did you do that for?”

   “Are you crazy?” she wheezed, backing away from him holding her neck. “I told you to let go, and you wrenched my fucking neck. You _hurt_ me.”

   He looked at her blankly as she bumped into the bathroom door, ducking inside and slamming it behind her as she wrapped a towel around her body, her limbs shaking uncontrollably. There was nothing behind his eyes when she told him, no remembrance or concern that she’d been in a goddamned car accident and fucked up her spine, and she started to hyperventilate, the searing pain making her sick.

   “Jessica? Honey, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

   Negan had never been so forceful, so devoid of any affection for her, even when their lovemaking bordered on the obscene, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near him right now. 

   Slowly, she opened the door to find him standing there in his pants, looking shell-shocked, finally. When he reached out for her, she skittered back, unable to keep her chin from trembling. Jess just wanted to get away, to not lash out, even though she felt like a wounded animal. 

   “I need to go home,” she said, reaching for her pants and shirt with stiff movements, and he moved to help her, stopping when she flinched. 

   “Please,” he whispered, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. “I just got carried away. I would never hurt you on purpose. Just let me take you downstairs, and I’ll work on your neck. Please.”

   “I don’t want to,” she avoided his stare, gingerly dressing and leaving her bag on the floor. “I have pain pills at home. I just want to take one and rest.”

   “I’ll drive you. We can spend the night there, instead.”

   “I said _no_ ,” she started for the door, coming to an abrupt stop as she felt him following behind her. “I’ll be fine, really. I just…I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Negan.”

   “Jess, please. I’m so sorry, you have to know that.”

  _Did she?_

   “I’ll text you to let you know I got home safe,” she choked out, the keys jingling in her hand, and she fled down the steps as fast as she could go without crying out from the pain, feeling her way to the back door once she realized that the office was locked up for the night.

   It wasn’t completely dark out, and when she started around the side of the building, she let out a sob, balling her fist into her mouth to keep silent, her body and mind at complete odds. The sting of fear was starting to ebb away, leaving the physical pain behind and the ache in her heart that his complete lack of emotion had put there. 

   When Jessica arrived home, she locked the door behind her, oddly afraid that he would show up, refusing to give her the space that she needed to process what went down, heading straight for her medicine cabinet to the pills that sat there mostly unused. Setting them on the sink, she quickly showered to rid herself of the sickening feeling that his seed left between her legs, not wanting to have any physical memento of a tryst gone horribly wrong, and when she stepped out, she gasped in shock at the dark red marks on her hip that were already starting to turn purple. It wasn't rape, but it also wasn't wanted, and she was sick over it. 

   All she’d wanted to do was mix things up for once, to take his mind off of the pressure that he was putting himself under, and it had uncorked something raw and brutal in him, and those dreaded words followed her into her bed after she’d swallowed her pill.

    _“He’s not who you think he is.”_

   The little voice in the back of her mind reminded her of another painful fact as she slipped into an uneasy sleep, rubbing salt in a wound that she thought had closed.

    _“Rick would never hurt you like that.”_

 

 

   Negan stood at the door, his mouth dry and his eyes itching as Jessica walked out, the realization that he’d gone too far really kicking in, and he almost started after her before thinking better of it. 

   He’d never been so careless with her, even though the mere sight of her body made him hazy with lust for the last few months every time he saw it. Was he just confused? Did he think he was with one of the random hookups that he still had once in a while when she wasn’t around? They were always down for a dirty fuck, and he didn’t have to be gentle with them. Most of them were as debauched as he was, not that his little bird wasn’t sinful. Those long, creamy legs and dark pink nipples. The way her eyes would turn greyer when she was past the point of no return. The catch in her voice when she called out his name. 

   Negan was proud of himself that he’d managed to scale down on the random women that he picked up. Much less than with Lucille, because he loved Jessica wholeheartedly. All he wanted was to quench the ache that was always there, a release of the tension that he carried around with him all the time. But he’d scared her, and it brought back bad memories, recollections that he avoided at all costs because thinking about them sent him into a bad place.

   Lucille on the bed, barely breathing in fear of her impending death. Lucille _leaving_ him. The blank stare in her eyes as she drifted from the living world to the dead, where he couldn’t follow her, couldn’t love her anymore. She wouldn’t let him, and he’d closed himself off from ever caring about another human being as much as he’d cared about her.

   Until Jessica. 

    _Because you’re dangerous to her. Your love kills_ , the angel said loudly, without anything else to distract him, and he fled for the safety of his bedroom, ignoring it. But it wasn’t any better in there. The little slutty shorts and shirt were still on the floor where she’d left them and the bed was messed up from her struggling to get away. 

    _“Are you crazy? I told you to let go!”_

   “Fuck!” he roared, ripping the sheets from the bed and throwing them on the ground, covering up her clothes. Somewhere deep inside, the devil laughed, encouraging the rage, desperate to feed off of it, and he obliged, stomping on pictures and tearing drawers out, scattering his clothes everywhere. 

   Out of breath, he collapsed on the floor, resting his head in his hands as he tried to drown out the voices, the anger that always seemed to come up at the worst possible times. 

   His phone beeped in the other room, and Negan scrambled to his feet, finding a short text from Jessica that just said ‘I’m home’. He hurriedly answered back, another pathetic apology, but as he waited for it to be read, the seconds turned into minutes, and he threw the phone against the wall, unsure if he was angrier at her for not believing in him or himself for making her doubt his intentions in the first place. 

    _You’ll fix this_ , the devil reassured him from deep inside his chest. _One way or another._

   He could regain her trust, he told himself over and over. This was just a mistake. They’d get back on track tomorrow. Laying on his side on the couch, Negan shut his eyes, vowing to himself for the thousandth time that he’d make it right. 

   Lucille. Jessica. 

   He wouldn’t lose another. He wouldn’t let her go without a fight.   
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a transitional chapter, so fair warning, because the next one is going to have a lot of stuff going on. Sorry it took so long to get up, but life has been crazy.

   The next morning, Jess rolled over in bed, jerking as her neck started to throb, and she let out a groan, feeling like she’d just been hit by that car again. The pain started at the base of her skull, traveling down her spine and out into her back, putting her right back where she was before she walked into the Sanctuary Wellness Center. 

   And Negan. Fucking Negan. The fear from the previous night had marinated, pickled while she slumbered, and it was now a warming anger at the way he’d treated her. The complete lack of understanding of why she was so upset. It wasn’t just that he’d ‘forgotten’ that she’d been injured. The overpowering feeling of wrongness began right when he’d seen what she was wearing. The way he called her a ‘slut’, and it wasn’t in a joking manner. She’d received nothing but respect from him until then, so which Negan was the real one? The one that told her she was beautiful and sexy treating her like a lady? Or the one that liked it rough with sluts?

   Her voice was loud and clear when she told him to stop, but he’d tuned it out, not understanding until she’d clocked him in the face, and for the first time, she was afraid of him. She’d never been afraid of anyone she’d dated before, and it was coloring her view of everything, now, though maybe she was overreacting. Kelly’s words had colored her relationship in subtle ways, she realized as she showered uncomfortably. 

   Whenever they were out in public, she watched him unconsciously to see if he was checking out other women, though he never seemed to. Then there was the time that he got into an argument with one of his contractors, and he raged out, throwing a paperweight that sat on his desk against the wall when the guy told him that he wouldn’t have the walls torn down for at least two weeks. It’d thrown her off mightily, though he’d immediately calmed down, apologizing for letting the contractor piss him off.

   Her phone was sitting on the counter when she finally staggered out to head to work, and she shoved it in her purse without looking at it, her thoughts cycling over and over in her brain as she drove, and because of that, she drove right by the gallery, cursing a blue streak when she had to go around the block again. 

   Michonne was already there, helping a customer when Jess walked in, doing a double take before smoothly returning to the conversation about Ethel Merriweather photography, a certain one in particular, and Michonne assured the woman that she’d make a few calls to inquire the availability, encouraging her to look around. 

   “What in the hell happened to you?” she whispered as Jess bent over stiffly to stow her purse under the counter. 

   “I reinjured my neck last night.”

   “How?”

   “I…”

   What the fuck was she supposed to say? Sex gone really wrong? 

   “You look terrible,” Michonne said, pursing her lips. 

   “Thanks.”

   “I’m serious. You need to go to the clinic and get checked. You’re moving like Frankenstein.”

   “I’ll be fine,” Jess said as the older woman wandered back to get Michonne’s attention. 

   “It’s non-negotiable,” Michonne used her bossy voice. “We have the showing on Thursday night, and I need you at a hundred percent. Aaron and I can handle the next few days. Go see the doctor and take the time off to rest, Jess.”

   “You’re the boss.”

   “Yes, I am,” she smiled, kissing her on the cheek. “Go and get yourself treated. Maybe Negan could give you a little tender lovin’ care.”

   Jessica forced herself to smile, and Michonne bent down, handing over her purse as she waved her towards the door. Giving up, she headed out, making the fifteen minute trip to the Avondale Clinic after calling ahead to let Miranda the receptionist know that she was coming. After the car accident, she was referred to Dr. Simpson, who made Jessica feel comfortable immediately.

   In his early forties, Dr. Simpson was jovial, funny, and smart, and he helped her tremendously with her therapy, so she was happy to see him again when he walked into the exam room.

   “Well, I can’t say I’m thrilled to see you looking so uncomfortable,” he chuckled, “but it’s nice to catch up, Jessica.”

   “Yeah, doc, I’ve had a little setback.”

   “Is the massage therapy not helping?” Dr. Simpson gently probed her neck, turning it slightly until she winced in pain, patting her arm.

   “They’re fine. I just wrenched my neck last night, and it’s causing a lot of pain in my neck and upper back.”

   “Anything down into your legs? Any numbness?”

   “No,” she said as he moved behind her, pressing several tender places, making her muscles lock in place. “Just the pain and burning like before.”

   After giving her a cortisone shot, Dr. Simpson handed her a list of exercises for her neck, telling her to do nothing for at least twenty-four hours, alternating ice packs and heat, and wrote her a prescription for new pain pills, sending her on her way with a smile.

   Jess took the prescription to the pharmacy, choking down a burger in her car while she waited for it to be filled, finally turning on her phone, unsurprised to see several missed calls and texts from Negan. Not ready to talk to him yet, she sent him a short message that she was on her way home from the doctor’s, turning it back off with a sigh. 

   They had to hash this out, she knew, but as she set the pills on the passenger’s seat, she had no idea what she wanted to say. The burden was on him, she decided, and she drove home, kicking off her boots and fixing an ice pack, plopping down on the couch to ice her neck and holding it to her skin until she felt like she had frostbite. The heating pad was next, and she settled onto her side, waiting for Negan to show up as she dozed.

   The buzzer for the front door went off just as the sun was going down, and she steeled herself to see him, pressing the button to let him in and going over to her door, unlocking it and leaving it open a crack. By the time he got to it, she was already back on the couch with a fresh icepack, watching warily as he came into view holding a white bag and a bouquet of flowers, but that wasn’t what drew her eyes.

   His face was unshaven, and there were dark circles under his eyes, making him look older and unwell. Hovering in the doorway, he waited until she gestured for him to come inside, shutting the door quietly behind him.

   “How are you?” his voice was rough, like he’d been talking endlessly, and Jess lifted up her shoulders with effort.

   “Pinched nerve. I’m out of commission for the next few days,” she was surprisingly calm, given that it was the first time she’d seen him since what happened in bed, and he set the bag down, holding out the flowers as she stared at him. 

   “I’m so sorry, Jess,” he said, sitting on the far end of the couch. “I would never hurt you on purpose, you have to know that.”

   “I thought I did,” she tossed the icepack next to the bag, watching as his hands gripped his knees. “Until last night.”

   “Jess, I’m sorry. You have to believe that. I just got so into the little roleplay that I forgot about your neck. I’d never seen you like that before, and it drove me crazy.”

   “I don’t buy that, Negan,” his face blanched in surprise, the tension building between them. “I’ve done plenty of things with you in the past few months that weren’t vanilla, though maybe compared to you, I am.”

   “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

   He had nerve getting offended, and she braced herself against the cushion, turning awkwardly to face him, though he was burning a hole through the wall instead of looking at her. 

   “You sat here months ago and admitted to me that you’ve dated lots of women, some of which I’d seen firsthand. None of them were…classy-looking, I’m sorry to say, not that I’m Princess Di or anything. So, I get that your bedroom interests may run a little more wild than mine, but that wasn’t pure lust that took over you.”

   “What? You think I’m sadistic or some shit?”

   “You tell me,” she said, the anger from when she woke up in pain returning. “I don’t know as much about you as I thought.”

   “Jesus Christ,” he stood up, pacing around the living room, the air around him creating a whirling sensation as Jessica picked up the ice pack, watching him steadily, a steely sense of determination flooding her system. “I never thought you’d look at me like that, that you’d insinuate that I’m an asshole.”

   He was lashing out, trying to turn this around on her, and it was a mistake, one that forced her upright despite the pain. 

   “I’m not insinuating anything. You hurt me last night, or did you forget? I tried to do something to take your mind off of everything that’s going on, and the second you walked in and saw me like that, it set something off. You were angry, you were rough, and you were completely unbothered after. It freaked me out, and the fact that you’re irritated now is pissing me off.”

   “I said I was sorry,” he snapped, planting his feet in front of her. “What else do you want from me? It won’t happen again.”

   “I want to know _why_. What the fuck was going through your head?”

   “I don’t know,” he said, becoming eerily calm. “I just got lost in the moment.”

   “But, why? You’ve been wound up before, and you’ve never acted like that. I find it hard to believe that a pair of stockings and a lollipop sent you into some sort of sex trance.”

   “I…” he eased past her to sit back on the couch, putting his head in his hands. “I don’t know. It took me back to a bad place. After I lost Lucille, I told you that I went on a bender, kind of. I slept with all kinds of women, and some of it was…rough. Not in a rapey kind of way,” he quickly added, wiping his eyes. “Just, a haze of random fucks in bar bathrooms and drunken screwing jags. The women were nothing like you, gorgeous. They didn’t care about how I felt or what I really needed. They only saw me as a piece of ass, willing to do whatever they wanted.”

   It sucked hearing this, obviously, but she returned to her spot next to him as he let out a ragged breath. Negan reached out for her hand, his own trembling, and she hesitated before taking it, letting him bring it to his lips. 

   “I love you, more than I ever thought I could love anyone again. But every once in a while, I feel like I’m back there, alone, just fucking my way through my existence. I was so lonely, Jess. Don’t make me go back to that.”

   “I’m not tapping out, Negan,” she said after a long pause, shutting her eyes as he seemed to hunch over in relief. “But I can’t walk around wondering if anything I do or say is going to upset you or make you act like you did last night. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or you need space, tell me. I love you, too, and I want to be able to put this behind us.”

   “I will, I promise.” 

   Looking into his eyes, a veil seemed to lift in them, and he carefully took the ice out of her hand, placing it next to the bag and running practiced hands over her neck, gently touching the tender areas. 

   “My doctor gave me a cortisone shot and some new pills,” she said as he bit his lip. “And just so you’re not surprised, you left bruises on my hip.”

   “Fucking fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Do you want to punch me in the dick? It’s only fair.”

   “Maybe, when I’m feeling better.”

   Negan sniffed, rubbing his chin as he grabbed the bag, pulling out a container of soup. “I brought you some homemade chicken soup. Let me grab a bowl.”

   Carrying it into the kitchen, he poured some out for her, setting it on the table along with the pills and a glass of water, rubbing her knee lightly as she ate slowly, and when she was done, he set the heating pad on the back of her neck. Neither of them said much, instead staring at the television until her eyes fluttered shut, and he carried her to the bedroom, laying her down.

   “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he covered her up, and she captured his hand, pulling him back so that he was sitting next to her. 

   “Don’t hurt me again, Negan,” she said sleepily, unable to keep her eyes open. “You shouldn’t hurt the people that love you.”

   He didn’t respond, that she could recall, he just kissed the top of her head lightly, and she was out, drifting into a pill-induced fever dream.

 

 

    _Negan was on top of her, staring down at her with lustful, angry eyes, and she was both afraid and turned on when he spoke._

_“Gonna fuck you so hard, you gorgeous slut.”_

_He pushed his way inside her, and she braced her hands against this shoulders, simultaneously pulling him closer and pushing him away. Negan never kissed her, never said anything else, he just kept pumping himself in and out of her until he let out a groan, making her eyes close in the dream._

_Suddenly, there was a tender kiss placed on her lips, and she opened her eyes to see Rick smiling down on her, taking the place that Negan had just vacated._

_“Rick?” she gasped, her hands going to his chest as he caressed her face, those dimples sending jolts straight into her heart._

_“I’m here, Jazz,” he said, easing himself inside her like he’d never left, using his special nickname for her as he brushed his lips across hers, making her nails curl into his pecs, trapping the downy chest hair in her fingers as her brain told her it was wrong. She was with Negan, and he loved Lori, but her heart wanted this, wanted to burrow itself in this moment, one that felt brand new but so familiar, so right._

_She locked her legs around his waist, using his hair to pull him to her mouth, and they moved in time, the warmth growing in her torso as he rocked against her, sweeping his tongue around hers the way he always did, the way that made her feel like she was back in time, back when he was everything to her, and she let out a cry of pain as he moaned in happiness._

_Blinking, he rolled to the left, turning her so that they were spooning, and she saw that Negan was lying next to her the entire time, his back bare against her nose._

_“He was here?”_

_“Mmmhmm,” Rick murmured into her ear, placing her hand on Negan’s waist. “And I’m here, whenever you’re ready to come back.”_

 

   Daylight burned against her closed lids, and Jessica woke, still feeling warm and surrounded by past and present love, rolling onto her back as she stared up at the ceiling, the dream hovering around her like a sensory overload, and for the first time in months, she wondered if she made a mistake with Rick.

 


	10. Chapter 10

   “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

   Michonne was euphoric as she walked into the gallery, dressed in pink and grinning from ear to ear. The artist’s showcase the night before was a smashing success, and Jess was a thrilled as her boss. Paul Rovia was a street artist, and he brought in a younger, hipper clientele than they were used to. 

   Graffiti inspired paintings, portraits that were goosed with extra color, the gallery had been filled to the max with patrons, and Paul reaped the rewards, selling nearly every piece that he’d brought in. That, in turn, boosted the profits for the gallery, and Michonne was giddy with the possibility of expanding into the next shop, making their showroom twice the size that it was. 

   Jessica, meanwhile, had been introduced to Atlanta’s hip, young artist community, and she’d spend most of the night taking cards and setting up meetings with Paul’s friends, all of whom were looking to get their works into the public spotlight as well. 

   All in all, it had been just what her soul had needed, to step away from her relationship with Negan for a night and refocus on her work, to take time to really think about what she wanted in her career. Design, showcasing. All of it appealed to her.

   “So, any hot plans tonight?” Jess asked as she handed over the numbers tally from the previous night, and the two women retreated to her office since the gallery was empty. 

   “My mom is taking Andre for the night, and Mike and I are going to dinner and a movie.”

   “Sexy.”

   “Shut up,” she smirked at Jess. “When you have a four year-old that takes up all of your time, you just want a night out, you know?”

   “I get it. I just thought that you’d be doing something a little more…wild.”

   “That’ll come later in the evening,” she winked, and Jess dropped her head, scanning a few invoices that needed to be addressed. Aaron was going to man the gallery for the last few hours of the evening, and she wanted to have the deliveries planned out for the next few days so that he wasn’t scrambling to get the pieces to their new owners.

   “What about you? What’s your man planning for you?”

   “No idea,” she muttered, transcribing some notes. “He just told me to wear whatever I wanted. Nothing fancy.”

   “Don’t sound so thrilled. Has the shine worn off?”

   “It’s not that,” she said, finally looking up. “I’m just going through an adjustment period. This time last year, I was with Rick, thinking that he was going to propose, and now, I have a new boyfriend, and I have no idea what the future brings.”

   “That’s not a bad thing, you know,” Michonne said softly, though Jess knew she was very fond of Rick. “Maybe you and Rick just weren’t meant to be. You started dating him when you were only twenty-six or so.”

   “And?”

   “And how many serious relationships have you had in your life?”

   “I’ve had a few,” she said, thinking of her college boyfriend and a guy that she dated for a year in high school. 

   “You’re still young, Jess. I think Rick was the first true love in your life, and now…now, you have Negan. You can fall in love more than once.”

   “I know that.”

   “You do love him, though? Negan?”

   “I do,” she said after a long pause. “It’s just _different_ than with Rick. Being with Negan is like…being in the throes of new love all the time. It’s passionate and heady. Like walking a tightrope. And when I was with Rick it felt, I don’t know, warm and safe, the way my parents are with each other.”

   Michonne reached over the desk, plucking the pen from Jessica’s hand so that she could have her full attention. 

   “Honey, are you having second thoughts about ending things with Rick?”

   “No. Don’t mind me,” she brushed it off with a smile. “I’m happy with Negan. It’s just nostalgia, I guess.”

   “You know I’m here if you want to talk.”

   “Thanks, Mich,” she stood up, hugging the other woman, and they spent the rest of the day with no further talk about love, just art.

   It took her longer than expected to get home, the streets filled with couples on their way to dinner or more adventurous affairs, and when she got to her apartment, there was a brown paper bag sitting in front of the door. Picking it up, she brought it inside with her, peeking in and extracting an oversized Reese’s peanut butter heart. 

   Only one person could’ve left it, and her eyes filled with tears as she held it to her chest. A simple, cheap gift, but one that she received every year, and it only made her sad. Sad enough that she took it into the kitchen and hid her heart in the cupboard above the fridge, taking a deep breath as she saw the time. Negan was on his way, and she needed to change clothes. 

   He’d told her to dress however she wanted, and he’d warned her that they weren’t going anywhere fancy, so she put on a pair of black jeans and boots, adding a red, off shoulder sweater and some bracelets. She left her hair down and wavy, adding some fresh makeup and perfume, and she sat on the couch to wait, placing his card and gift in front of her.

   After they’d talked out the bedroom debacle, the following days were odd, to say the least. Negan was more subdued with her, and she, in turn, had retreated into a bit of a shell, still worried that he was going to lash out at her again. Despite her lingering thoughts of Rick and what once was, Jess still wanted things to work with Negan. She _did_ love him. Maybe not in the same way as Rick, but it was a genuine feeling.

   When the buzzer rang, she grabbed a jacket and the present, heading out to his waiting car. She could hear the lock click, allowing her to slide inside to the smell of cologne and roses, which were blocking his face. 

   “Happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous,” he said from behind them. Taking them and setting them carefully in the back seat, she leaned forward to his freshly shaven face, kissing him softly, her lips lingering there a while as she felt the familiar stirring in her chest and other areas, breathing him in.

   “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she replied, holding out the card and gift. A pleased smile crossed his face, like hadn’t been expecting anything from her, and he took it with glee. 

   “Open the gift first,” she urged him, pointing to the little bag, and he plucked out a small box, his smile widening when he saw that she’d gotten him onyx and diamond cufflinks to replace the plain gold ones that he wore on dressy occasions. The card was a standard, schmaltzy one with loving words, but nestled inside was a receipt for delivery, and he gave her a confused look. 

   “It’s a portrait that I picked out for you. I thought that you could put it in one of the new rooms when the spa is complete.”

   “Thank you, gorgeous,” he kissed the tip of her nose. “No one’s ever gotten me anything so goddamned thoughtful before.”

   “You’re welcome, handsome.”

   “Buckle up, so we can get this date going,” he opened the glove box, stowing the card and cufflinks inside before reversing out of the driveway. He was wearing jeans as well and a black button-down that hugged his chest and stomach, showing off his physique. 

   “Where would that be, exactly?”

   Negan refused to tell her, so she sat back, taking his hand and setting in in her lap as he drove, her own face breaking out into a grin when he pulled in front of B’s, though it appeared to be completely deserted.

   “Are they closed?”

   “Just come on,” he told her as they pulled up to the curb, and he came around to help her out, striding forward to the entrance where there was a sign saying that the restaurant wouldn’t be open until 9 pm. Negan knocked loudly, and the door swung open, MarLynn enveloping her in a hug as she shouted ‘hello’ in her hear.

   “What’s going on?” Jess asked as they walked into the empty seating area, finding the room decorated with streamers, red lights, and music playing softly in the background.

   “Negan rented the restaurant for a private dinner for you, Jessie J. Have a seat,” she pointed to the only table that had a cloth on it, a bottle of wine and plates set for two. 

   “You did?”

   Negan pulled out the chair like a gentleman, and she placed a napkin in her lap as MarLynn poured them each a bit of white wine. After she disappeared into the kitchen, Jess clinked her glass to his, taking a sip as he watched her with fiery eyes, the act making her blood tickle in her veins. 

   “I would do anything for you, little bird.”

   He’d never called her that before, and they sat lost in the red light until he cleared his throat, glancing at the menu, so Jess followed suit. When MarLynn returned with Bryan in tow, he shook Negan’s hand before placing a kiss to the top of her head, and she told him to make whatever he wanted for her dinner, and Negan did the same, the two going back into the kitchen and returning with cornbread and peppered jelly. 

   They were able to ease into a comfortable conversation, and Negan updated her on the construction at the Sanctuary, since she hadn’t been back there yet, still not comfortable enough to return. Apparently, they’d set up a firm date to break ground on the outdoor pool in the spring, and they discussed some ideas for the surrounding area. Jessica suggested a flower garden, a place that people could go to meditate, and he seemed inclined to agree.

   Bryan brought out their food not long after, placing two heaping portions of brisket and sides in front of them, leaving them alone to enjoy their meal, and the food was divine. Jess loved nothing more than a good meal and conversation, and they lingered over drinks until the famous fried peach pie was served, both of them bringing up the night that they first kissed, and he fed her bites, wiping his lips after taking a few of his own. 

   This was better than any fancy dinner or night out, and she rested her chin on her hand as Negan went to the bathroom, chiding herself for her lack of conviction when it came to him and Rick. She was so lost in thought that the sight of his fingers in front of her face made her jump, and she realized that he was waiting to dance with her.

   He’d gone to the jukebox, picking out her favorite Dylan song, one that he knew she loved, and the two of them moved to the open floor, turning in a slow circle as she rested her head on his shoulder, her nose pressed into his neck. 

_“I know you haven't made your mind up yet_

_But I would never do you wrong_

_I've known it from the moment that we met_

_No doubt in my mind where you belong”_

 

   Jessica could feel his arm tighten around her waist as she placed a soft kiss just under his jaw, moving in time with the song that seemed to speak to her the way not many others could, and he hummed along, the vibrations leaching into her chest. It was just the two of them, two scared, previously hurt people, and hopefully, they could keep going without doing any more damage to each other.

_“I could make you happy, make your dreams come true_

_Nothing that I wouldn't do_

_Go to the ends of the earth for you_

_To make you feel my love”_

 

   When he carefully tilted her head up, Jessica wrapped both arms around his neck, kissing him with all the passion that she felt in the moment, losing track of time and place. It amazed her how just a touch from him, under the perfect circumstances could make her into someone that she didn’t recognize. Foolish and prone to letting go so easily, and it wasn’t until she heard MarLynn clear her throat that she broke apart from Negan’s embrace, resting her forehead on his chest.

   “Sorry to interrupt,” she chuckled, “but it’s almost nine, honey.”

   “Thank you so much for doing this,” Jess said as Negan took her hand and walked her back to the table so that they could grab their coats. 

   “My pleasure.”

   They said their goodbyes, leaving out the front door as the lights clicked on, and Negan started the car, resting his hand on her knee. 

   “Do you want to go grab a drink at Monty’s?” he asked, pulling away from the curb. Monty’s was a dive bar that Negan frequented when he wasn’t up to the pomp and circumstance of the Standard Lounge, but she shook her head.

   “I’d rather go back to my place if you don’t mind.”

   A little smirk formed on the corner of his lips, and she tamped down on the arousal that was simmering between her legs until they reached her door. They hadn’t had sex since the incident, and when they got inside, she took her time kicking off her boots and removing her coat as Negan did the same, both of them standing in front of the couch. 

   “More wine?” he knew she kept some alcohol in the fridge, but she shook her head, backing down the hall towards her bedroom, and he followed behind at a slower pace, appearing in the doorway like a predator stalking his prey. 

   Curling her finger, she waited until he was directly in front of her, gazing at his face to gauge his frame of mind, and Jess was pleasantly surprised to see only restrained enthusiasm, so she unbuttoned his shirt, running her nails down his chest, breathing deeply as his abs clenched in response.

   She got down on her knees, unbuttoning his pants, and he palmed the back of her head when she slid them down to the floor, her heart picking up speed when he stepped clear of them, tossing his shirt onto the bed. When he tried to carefully guide her face towards him, she fought back, looking up into his eyes.

   “Let me.”

   It was what she needed to move on, and he nodded once, brushing her hair out of her face. Feeling more confident, she ran her hand up and down the shaft, using her thumb to spread the milky liquid across the head, flicking her tongue out to taste the salty liquid, and Negan let out a huff of breath in anticipation until she opened her mouth fully, taking just the tip inside. 

   Negan fought the urge to buck his hips forward, letting her set her own pace, and after hollowing her cheeks, she took him in as far as she could, sliding one hand to his ass and using the other to steady the base, moving back and forth as her own heat burned bright.

   “Fuck,” he muttered, the deep sound going straight down her spine, allowing her to speed up her movements. “So fucking perfect. Just like that, little bird.”

   The new nickname prompted a moan from her throat, and she felt a gush of liquid as he swelled in her mouth. Using her fingers to knead the muscle of his right cheek, she began to twist her hand along the base the way he liked, stopping briefly to give attention to his balls, and he took a step back so that he didn’t come too soon. 

   “I fucking need you, Jess,” Negan hauled her to her feet, reaching for her jeans. “I don’t need just your mouth right now, I need your body.”

   “Bed,” she panted, lifting her sweater over her head, and by the time it was off, he was lying on his back, waiting, watching. She’d been pretty sure that she was going to sleep with him tonight, that she was ready, and she’d worn a black, lace bra and panties, the way he licked his lips as she slipped them off increasing the urgency with which she needed to straddle him, and she crawled next to him, swinging her leg over so that she was facing his feet.

   The fact that she was so turned on made it easy to slip him inside her, his large hands completely circling her waist as she began to move her hips in a circle, wanting him to hit every inch of her insides, and when she started to move up and down, his toes curled in response. 

   “Fuck me, little bird. Fuck yourself on me.”

   “Yes.”

   She started to bounce on top of him, those rough, strong hands urging her to go higher and drop lower, and she got lost in the pace until he barked out an order for her to move her hair. “I wanna see them, little bird. Show me.”

   Turning her head as much as she could since she was still recovering, Jessica swept her hair over her shoulder, giving him a view of the tattoo that he loved, and one hand traced them as she stimulated herself, grinding harder and faster until he sat up, using his tongue and stubble to trace the birds in flight.

   “Fly, baby,” he moaned in her ear, the continual clenching of her around him making him grunt in happiness. Negan worked her breasts from behind, slowly turning her onto her stomach, and she buried her face in the comforter while he spread her thighs as far apart as he could, finishing with a groan and a kiss to the base of her neck. 

   Jess was totally satisfied and comfortable as he covered her with his body, placing comforting pecks to her cheek, and he whispered in her ear as he slid out, easing her legs down behind her.

   “Was that okay?”

   Rolling onto her back, she used his shoulders to guide him on top of her, biting his bottom lip in response. “Better than okay.”

   Negan smiled, kissing her deeply before rolling off and disappearing out into the hall, and she pulled down the covers snuggling underneath them to wait for him to come back. He was still nude when he brought back a glass of water and a black, felt box, her smile faltering until she realized that it wasn’t small enough to be a ring, allowing her heart to stop seizing in her chest. It was way too soon to even think about marriage, and her reaction didn’t escape his notice, though he plastered a grin on his face.

   “You didn’t think I forgot a fucking gift did you?”

   “Of course not,” Jess lifted the sheet so he could get in. “I thought the private meal was my gift.”

   “Here,” Negan held it out as she got to a sitting position, and she opened the lid, her mouth dropping in surprise at what was inside. 

   “Negan, it’s beautiful,” she said as she lifted the necklace from its spot, holding it up to get a better look. “Thank you.”

   The pendant was white gold and diamonds, shaped like a bird in flight, and he unclasped it, laying it on her neck as she turned to let him secure it. When it nestled against her chest, he kissed her shoulder before she turned to hug him, the two lowering themselves onto the pillows. 

   “I love it, and I love you,” she murmured, letting him lull her to sleep as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Today was a good day.”  


 

   Jess was awakened by a burst of light, and she covered her eyes in response, unable to see. 

   “What’s going on?” 

   Negan was standing over her in his boxers, and he dropped her phone into her lap, the cell bouncing onto the mattress as she struggled to figure out what was happening.

   “What time is it?”

   “It’s two in the goddamned morning, and your phone has been ringing off the hook for the last twenty minutes. Why the fuck is Rick Grimes calling you over and over, Jessica?”

   “How would I know?” she sat up, trying to get her bearings, the phone buzzing next to her leg. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was after two, and she picked up the phone, thanking the good Lord that she’d removed Rick’s picture a long time ago, though she still had his name listed in her contacts. Negan stomped out of the room like she’d purposely asked him to call and wake them up, and she pressed the button, clearing her throat. “Hello?”

   “Jess?”

   She knew something was wrong, instinctively. Rick’s voice was raw and fading, even with just her name, and she threw the covers off of her legs, getting to her feet.

   “Rick, why are you calling so late? What’s wrong?”

   There were a lot of things she expected that he could say, but nothing prepared her for the words that came next, and as he spoke, her legs gave out and she hit the floor on her knees.

   “Carl,” he choked out as her vision prickled in shock. “Carl was in an accident.”

  



	11. Chapter 11

   “Where are you?”

   Rick didn’t respond right away, and she managed to get to her feet, searching around for her clothes that were still strewn around her floor, getting her bra and underwear on before he answered.

   “Metro, in the emergency waiting room.”

   “I’ll be there in twenty,” she said, hanging up before he could try to dissuade her, and Jess finished dressing in record time, finding a rubber band to pull back her hair. When she carried a pair of socks into the kitchen, Negan was standing there drinking a beer, his arms folded as he glared at her. 

   “What the fuck is going on?”

   “Carl was in an accident,” she said, starting to shake uncontrollably, though he made no move to comfort her. “I-“ she stuttered, wiping her face. “He’s in the hospital.”

   “He’s the kid, right?” Negan took a long drink, and she hunted around for her keys, snatching them out of the bowl by the door before returning to get her purse. “I’ll drive you over.”

   “I’ll go,” she said, waiting for him to show any sort of emotion, but she was rewarded with none, finally walking over and kissing his cheek. “Stay and get some sleep. Once I find out if he’s going to be all right, I’ll be back.”

   “Sure,” he told her in a monotone voice, heading towards the bedroom as she stared after him in shock. Any rational, caring human being would’ve tried to reassure her, to tell her that Carl would be fine. But not Negan. He was pissed that she was going, and she sure as shit knew it. Fuck him.

   Driving in a near daze, she tried to obey the speed limit, especially because there were cops out everywhere, and when she pulled into the Metro ER parking lot, she spied Rick’s battered old Ford, barely in a space, parking next to it and walking swiftly towards the entrance. 

   There was a guard working at the front door, and he rooted around her purse to make sure she wasn’t carrying any weapons before waving her towards the waiting room, which was half-filled with sick people, anxious people, and a man that left them all in the dust. It hadn’t occurred to her to worry about Lori or if she’d be there with him, but Rick was alone, sitting under the television with his head in his hands, and she walked on shaky legs towards him, perching uneasily on the seat next to him.

   “Rick?”

   His head lifted slowly, and she held her breath as they laid eyes on each other for the first time in months and under horribly difficult circumstances. He looked as bad as she imagined he would, his hair askew and his shirt buttoned wrong, but it was his face that was the worst. Unshaven, with red-ringed eyes and a pale complexion that made him look like he was going to keel over at any minute. 

   “He…he was driving home after the dance,” Rick said, staring through her, “and he was hit about two miles from home.”

   “How is he?”

   “I don’t know,” he rasped, his head falling back down into his hands. “All they could tell me was that he was alive.”

   Jessica stood up, going immediately to the information desk, where a tired young man was typing on a computer, holding up his hand that he’d be with her in a second, and she glanced back to see that Rick hadn’t moved a muscle. 

   “Can I help you?”

   “Yeah,” she sat down at the Formica desk, moving a clipboard out of the way. “I want to know how Carl Grimes is doing? We haven’t been updated.”

   “Are you family?”

   “Yes.”

   The desk clerk asked her for his birthdate and social, which thank the Gods she was able to remember, and he searched for information, excusing himself to head into the treatment area while she imagined the worst. Brain damaged, a ruined body that would never heal, and she was just about to hyperventilate when the kid returned, rubbing the back of his neck.

   “The doctor will be out shortly with an update.”

   “Thank you.”

   Before walking back, she stopped at the vending machine just inside the waiting room, buying two cups of coffee and holding one in front of Rick’s bowed head until he reached out with shaking hands to take it. 

   “The doctor’s going to update you soon.”

   Rick sniffled, taking a sip, and she almost pinched herself to make sure that she wasn’t trapped in some sort of waking nightmare. Sitting in the hospital with Rick was surreal, and she felt like she was thrust back into her past, the odd urge to reach for his hand to reassure him like she’d done so many times before. 

   “Where’s Lori?” The words came out without her permission, but she had to know, had to be prepared for when his wife showed up. 

   “Huh?”

   “Lori? Is she here?”

   “No,” his eyes closed as his hands crinkled the cup, nearly spilling the hot coffee all over him, and she plucked it out, setting it on the ground. “I called her. She’s out of town, and she’s trying to get an early morning flight back.”

   Well, at least Jess didn’t have to face the bitch, the one that she blamed only as much as Rick for the misery that had been the last year of her life before Negan, and she slumped back in her seat to wait for an update when Rick turned to face her, startling her.

   “I’m sorry I called you, Jess. I just…I didn’t know who else to…”

   Rick’s parents were long gone, and he didn’t have any brothers or sisters, and Jess knew that he’d been beside himself, so she shook her head, smiling briefly. 

   “It’s fine,” she assured him, swallowing down her discomfort at the way he was looking at her, his eyes taking in everything about her, and her brain short-circuited, wiping away all reason, all remembrance of why she wasn’t with him until the doctor came striding into the room, making both of them jump up.

   “Follow me,” he said, leading the two of them towards a smaller conference room. “I’m Doctor Fisher.”

   “Rick Grimes,” he extended his hand, introducing Jessica as they sat across from the middle-aged man in green scrubs. 

   “As you know, your son was involved in an accident earlier tonight, and he was brought into the emergency room by ambulance. There was significant damage to the vehicle, and your son suffered a head injury, as well as a broken arm and leg from the impact.”

   “Is he going to be all right?”

   “He’s currently sedated due to swelling in his brain that we’re monitoring. An MRI detected a small hematoma, so we performed what’s called a craniotomy to be able to relieve the pressure around his brain. He’s very young and otherwise healthy, but right now it’s a waiting game. We need to watch him closely for any further bleeding or damage.”

   “Oh, God,” Rick gasped, and Jessica immediately put her arm around him, only barely managing to keep herself together as the doctor gave them some time to process the onslaught of information. 

   “He’s been transferred to the Neurological ICU, and given the critical time, I can take you up for just a few minutes. It’s important to keep him as calm and comfortable as possible right now. I also want to caution you that he’s pretty banged up, and we’ve got him on a respirator, so it will be hard to see,” Dr. Fisher said gently. “But I feel confident that this young man will come through this, Rick.”

   Rick took a shuddering breath, steeling himself to see his son, and he reached for Jessica’s hand, the two of them following behind the doctor as they walked down the hall to the elevator. Dr. Fisher pressed the button for floor five, and when they stepped off, the stinging smell of antiseptic made her nose tickle, everything sterile and cold. 

   The ICU consisted of a waiting area and six private rooms, and Carl was in the closest one, being monitored by a handful of nurses, all of whom were bustling around the bed, blocking him from view. 

   Dr. Fisher left them in the doorway to check Carl’s vitals, and once he felt they were stable, he waved them forward. Jessica eased her hand from Rick’,s urging him forward, but he refused to move until she accompanied him part of the way, both of them starting to cry when they saw the condition he was in. 

   It wasn’t the young man that she’d watched grow up. This was a broken boy, dwarfed by the machines surrounding him, with tubes running in and out and a bandage wrapped around his skull, showing only a few bits of hair. His arm and leg were in a cast, and his face was swollen, leaving only slits for his eyes, which were shut. A respirator forced air into his lungs through a tube that was taped to his mouth, and the only sign that he was alive was the steady beep of the heart monitor.

   “He’s not in any pain,” Dr. Fisher assured Rick, waving him to the opposite side of the bed. “You can hold his hand, Dad.”

   There was a chair next to the head of the bed, and Rick sat down, gingerly taking Carl’s hand in his as the nurses and doctor gave them some private time, though Jess stayed back to allow Rick the ability to comfort his child, and she ached with pain for him. There was no earthly way she could fathom what he was feeling right now, only aware of her own fears that something would go wrong. 

   “I’m here, Carl,” Rick said softly, rubbing the top of his wrist. “The doctor said that he thinks you’re going to be okay, and if you can hear me, I want you to know how much I love you. I have to believe that you’re in there, and I want you to fight, son. Take as long as you need to get well, but _get_ better. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I need you here.”

   There was no response, but Jessica swore that she saw his eyelids flutter, a faint hope that he was taking everything in, and Rick used his forearm to wipe his face, staring blankly at Carl’s face, searching for any reaction. It led her to think that she was just imagining it, looking for any hope at this stage. 

   Rick continued to murmur quietly as the monitor maintained a steady rhythm until the nurses returned fifteen minutes later to check his vitals again. 

   “Mr. Grimes,” the young woman said, tucking the blanket around Carl’s shoulders, “he needs his rest. You can come back to visit him at seven, and we’ll keep you updated if anything changes at all.”

   “I can’t leave him here alone.”

   “You don’t have to leave,” she said calmly, continuing to check Carl’s iv. “There’s a waiting room down the hall. The chairs don’t look all that comfortable, but they’re surprisingly soft. Mrs. Grimes?” the girl turned to look at Jess, who shook her head rapidly before Rick noticed, and the nurse gave her an apologetic smile. 

   “Rick, let’s get some more of that lukewarm coffee,” Jess inched forward, holding out her hand, and after an internal debate, he stood up, softly kissing Carl’s forehead before taking her up on her offer and following her out with one last look behind him.

   The waiting room was empty, and Rick stood next to the chairs like a lost dog as she got another cup of coffee, handing it over and slumping down with a quick look at the clock. It was just before four in the morning, and she’d debated on whether or not to have any more caffeine, finally deciding against it so that at some point she’d be able to go back to sleep. He ended up sitting down next to her in the dim room, and she was suddenly cognizant of the fact that they were alone for the first time since she walked out, her stomach churning with even more nerves than ever.

   He must’ve realized it as well because he turned to face her, his mouth opening and closing until she held up her hand. 

   “Don’t,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “There’s enough going on in your life.”

   “You never let me explain Jess.”

   “It doesn’t matter in the end, does it? Carl is the priority right now.”

   “Of course, it matters,” he shook his head, like the mere thought that what had happened between them wasn’t water under the bridge. “You have no idea how many times I picked up the phone to call you, or drove to your apartment to see you. I-“

   The elevator doors opened with a ding, and she turned to see if the doctor had returned, but it wasn’t anyone that worked there. 

   It was Lori who shot out of the small space, holding Shane Walsh's hand, and Jessica started to laugh hysterically, launching herself towards the other woman, the source of so much pain in her life, unable to help herself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Effing Lori, amirite?
> 
> A longer chapter will be posted tomorrow!


	12. Chapter 12

   Rick was in Hell, a literal version of Hell, and he wondered vaguely what he’d done in this life or another to deserve this. His son was lying a hundred feet away fighting for his life, the woman he still loved was just blindsided by his ex-wife who’d jilted him and worked him over, all accompanied by the guy he thought was his best friend, who was now screwing said ex-wife. 

   He couldn’t make his body move at first as Lori and Shane burst into the waiting room, couldn’t get the words out to explain to Jessica that they were together, and couldn’t do anything but stare as she lost it, launching herself forward with a laugh that broke his heart, because he knew it was covering up a pain that he’d inflicted on her.

   “Jesus H. Christ,” she muttered as she skidded to a stop in front of Lori, making her flinch behind Shane with wide eyes. “How many fucking relationships have you ruined, Lori? I mean, what the _fuck_?”

   Lori’s face, already pale with the knowledge that Carl had been in a terrible accident, went translucent in the face of Jessica’s rage, the knowledge that she’d not only tried to lure Rick away not months before, but had been the catalyst for Andrea and Shane’s demise. 

   “Back the fuck off, Jess,” Shane snarled, gripping her upper arm to move her away. “This isn’t the time or the place.”

   Rick erupted out of his apathy, jolting forward and knocking Shane’s hand off of her, hissing in anger.

   “Don’t you ever fucking touch her again,” he warned, making Lori gasp in surprise. Rick’s temper was a slow burn, never really making itself known until it was too late, and she burst into tears as the other three stared daggers at each other. 

   “Carl,” she sobbed, as Shane put his arm around her, murmuring in her ear. “My son.”

   Jessica pushed around them, jabbing at the elevator button while Lori’s hoarse cries trailed after her, as did Rick. He made it to her when the doors opened, slipping inside, shaking in impotent fury as the doors shut, shutting them out, shutting them away from Lori and Shane.

   “I wanted to tell you,” he began, the words dying in his throat when she turned to face him, the wounds that had reopened making him lose his train of thought. “I should’ve told you, but I can barely deal with it myself.”

   “So, it was all for nothing,” she said bitterly, the corners of her mouth turning down. “You broke my fucking heart for nothing. How poetic.”

   “She fucked with my head, Jessica, that’s all. She never had my heart.”

   The absolute worst part of telling her was the fact that she plain didn’t believe him. After three years of love, of togetherness, Jess didn’t believe him, not that he’d given her any reason to. Lori’s declarations that maybe they’d made a mistake, maybe they should try again for Carl had conjured up massive guilt on his end, even though he hadn’t been the one to end their marriage. Rick didn’t want Carl to grow up without seeing his parents in a loving, happy marriage and brief images of the three of them had passed through his head, but only fleetingly. 

   He’d heard a muffled thump in the other room, cutting Lori off, and that’s when everything had fallen apart. Rick had walked out to see the devastation on Jessica’s face, and he knew right then that he’d made a huge mistake. The thing that he’d loved the most about Jess was her passion, her larger than life belief in him and everything about him.

   But with that passion came a headstrong refusal to engage in things that she didn’t want to, and she’d shut down in front of his eyes. Nothing he could say was going to change what she’d heard, and he stood there like a statue as she packed up her things, disappearing out of his life as quickly as she’d come into it, leaving everything gray and gloomy, worse than after Lori handed him the divorce papers. 

   Time. He thought that he would give her time to calm down, to let the situation itself fade away, and with that would come perspective. He’d told Lori in no uncertain terms that they were never going to be together again, and almost immediately after, she’d cut him out, refusing to speak with him unless it was about Carl. 

   Then came the revelation that she’d slept with Shane. His best friend since high school, the one who’d watched a teenaged Rick work up the courage to ask a sixteen year-old Lori Stanton to the spring formal. The best man at his wedding. The one who told him he’d be better off without her when she left. By the time he’d found out about the two of them, he’d fallen into a funk so bad that he was only just now coming out of, and seeing Jessica happy with another man, one who wasn’t him put the final nail in the coffin. His hopes to get her back were over.

   Jessica never answered him, she just stared through him until they reached the main floor of the hospital, walking out like she’d done months before, only this time, he wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. 

   “Jess, please,” he said, trailing behind her. “Please don’t walk away again. We have to talk about this. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

   “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she exploded, reeling around to face him with a teary face. “I didn’t break your fucking heart. I didn’t throw away our lives together for a woman that fucked you over time and again, Rick. _You_ did that, not me. If you really loved me, you would’ve told her to pound sand. You would’ve _fought_ for me. You would’ve stopped me from leaving, goddamnit. It’s too late.”

   “It’s never too late,” he said, struck by how beautiful she looked, even with no makeup, mottled cheeks, and teary eyes that he knew as well as his own. “I do love you. You and Carl, you’re _everything_ to me.”

   Bringing up Carl made her face crumple, and she backed away from him, taking off into the early morning as he fought between chasing after her and returning upstairs to wait for news on his son. There was no way he was going to break down the wall he’d created between them in one night, and he turned around, trudging towards the elevator to face Lori, to tell her what was waiting for her in the other room.

   When he reached the Neo ICU waiting room, she was sitting on one of the chairs with Shane, resting her head on his shoulder until Rick walked through, getting to her feet shakily. 

   “I don’t want her here anymore, not around my son,” she said, wiping her eyes, but he was unmoved. “Not after that.”

   “And I don’t want _him_ here.”

   “Come on, man,” Shane stood up, his hands in a defensive posture. “We’ve known each other for thirty years. You know I love Carl.”

   “Get the fuck out, or I’ll call security,” Rick said, staring him down as Lori’s mouth dropped open. 

   “Rick-“

   “Get the fuck out,” he roared, making Lori flinch back, dropping into the seat with a strangled moan. “You are not his father. I don’t give a shit what you do with Lori, but you’ll _never_ be me. Carl won’t be your son. _Ever._ Get your own goddamned family.”

   Rick almost wanted Shane to fight back, to give him an excuse to unleash all of the pent-up energy that had overcome him. He wanted to beat something, to destroy it the way the car had destroyed his son, the way he’d destroyed his future with Jess. 

   One of the male nurses appeared holding a walkie-talkie, and Shane’s face became eerily calm, giving them a nod that everything was all right. 

   “I’ll leave, Rick.”

   “That’s not fair,” Lori shuddered, earning a steely glare from Rick, but Shane leaned over, kissing the top of her head. “I need you here. I need support.”

   “It’s okay,” Shane said, cupping her cheek before turning and heading for the elevator. “I’ll give you both some time.”

   The whoosh of the doors closing did little to diffuse the tension in the waiting room, and Rick stalked over to one of the chairs on the opposite side to stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he was allowed to see Carl, forgetting that Lori existed for the time being, his mind too full of other concerns.

 

 

  
   Jessica sat in her car for several minutes, trying to come to terms with the fact that her life was in tumult. She’d thought that Rick was with Lori, and he wasn’t. She thought that Shane had left Andrea for another, unknown woman. He didn’t. Not to mention that Carl was fighting for his life upstairs, and Negan had made her feel like dirt for coming to see him.

   How did she get here? How had her life become a parody of itself? And Rick, telling her that he still loved her? After taking everything that they’d built together and trashed it with one phone call?

   Pulling away from the hospital, she had to dig down deep to pay attention to what she was doing, knowing that she probably shouldn’t be driving, but doing it anyway. She and Negan needed to talk about what happened. He was mercurial on the best of days, but it didn’t excuse the fact that he’d been so unsupportive at a time when she needed him the most. 

   It irritated her, for all the times she’d listened to him talk about Lucille, how much he’d loved her and how hard it had been losing her. She’d told him before that her situation with Rick wasn’t the same, but for him to not understand that Carl was innocent of the mistakes of his father? It didn’t sit well with her at all, but it was set on the backburner when she pulled into the drive and his car was gone. She didn’t know why, but Jess was dumbfounded at his immaturity, and she trudged to the door, unlocking it and finding all of the lights out. 

   Her roses were still sitting on the counter, along with his empty glass, and she walked into the bedroom to find a note sitting on her unmade bed. Not knowing if she even had the strength to read it, she went in and washed her face first before crawling onto the bed and picking it up, her hand shaking with nerves and lack of sleep.

_I’m sorry, but I had to leave. Watching you walk out to go see Rick, on Valentine’s Day of all days, hurt me more than you realize._

_I’m not a monster, Jessica, and I sincerely hope that his kid is okay, but it brought up bad feelings on my end, and I thought that you of all people would understand that._

_I need some time to process this, and I’ll call you when I feel ready to talk to you about how you made me feel._

   That was the straw that broke her back. Jessica Turner, proverbial camel, the one who carried everyone else when she barely had the strength to make it across the desert of her life, sat up and threw the note on the floor. She was done. She’d hit her limit of what she could take, and she was absolutely, positively over everyone in her life. 

   Thirty minutes later, at just after five in the morning, Jess tossed a suitcase into her back seat and resumed her spot behind the wheel, where she made her way to the interstate and left Atlanta behind.

 

 

   Negan allowed himself a rare lazy morning in bed. Under the circumstances, he felt he’d more than earned it, and he rolled over, propping his head up with an extra pillow, sure that he’d hear from Jessica at any time. The note he’d left was calculated to elicit an emotional response from her, a need to make things right after leaving the comfort of his arms to tend to Rick fucking Grimes. 

   After screwing up when he’d fucked her too roughly, Negan thought that things were getting back to normal. He’d played his part, apologizing and listening to her concerns about his state of mind, and he’d even admitted a few truths about his life after Lucille. There was a long period that included nothing but anonymous encounters wherever he could find them. It was all he was capable of, all that he wanted since the light in his life had gone out. And he really hadn’t meant to be so careless with Jess, but that outfit she had been wearing and the way she’d taunted him made his darkest impulses take over.

   Even last night, when she dropped to her knees in front of him made him want to overpower her, to take her like a wolf mounting its mate, but he’d held back enough to make her comfortable, and he’d been rewarded with her lips sucking his cock like they’d been made for it. Plus, the sight of her bouncing up and down on his lap fueled as many fantasies as the rainbow stockings that teased him on this very bed. 

   Stretching slowly, Negan rose, wearing only his boxers, and he went into his kitchen, grabbing an apple as he checked his phone. It was after eleven, plenty of time for his little bird to have gotten his note, but there was no message from her, no call. Oh, well. Let her stew all day like he had when she walked out of her apartment for asshole Rick.

   The afternoon passed by slowly, since he’d shut down the Sanctuary for the weekend, having planned a full two days with Jess, and by the time the sun went down, he contemplated heading out to get a drink, but the lack of response from his girl ticked him off enough that he withdrew to his room, wondering who was punishing who by this point. 

    _Wait until morning,_ his devil told him. _She needs to think about how she left you high and dry. She left you for another man, and you know that isn’t fucking cool._

   His dreams were unsettling that night. Memories of Lucille, her dying moments blended and mixed with those of Jess, the way she looked at him when he’d hurt her, and he tried to tell them both that he was sorry, that he didn’t mean it. 

   “I take it back,” he said, reaching out as Lucille disappeared from the bed and Jessica vanished behind a locked door. “I take it all back!”

   Negan was drenched in sweat when he woke, surrounded by gray light and twisted in his sheets. He’d never been so rattled by a dream, and he worked his legs free, reaching for his phone. It had been long enough, and he sent Jess a text that he was ready to talk.

 

 

   “Good morning!”

   Jessica sat down at the table, giving Mrs. Tremaine a sleepy smile, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring herself a cup to start her day. 

   “Good morning,” she answered back before taking the first sip, humming to herself. 

   “Will you be staying another day, sweetheart?”

   “I think so, if you’ll let me.”

   “Of course.”

   She’d been at the Piccadilly Bed and Breakfast in Charleston since she left home on Saturday morning with no idea where she was headed or what she was going to do when she got there. She just drove, and when she started north, Jess headed for the water, wanting to be somewhere that she could decompress and take stock of her life. 

   There was no way to do that at home, so she’d made a brief call to Michonne, explaining the situation as quickly as she could, telling her that she needed some time off. Michonne was nothing if not understanding, though she was shocked at the Lori/Shane revelation, even as Jess begged her not to say anything to Andrea. The reason she hadn’t confided in them was clear, an attempt to keep Jess shielded from the ramifications.

   And then there was Negan, who’d selfishly decided to punish her for something that he had no business being upset about. It wasn’t as if she’d snuck out to have a clandestine meeting with Rick. The focus was Carl, and it made her see him in a different light, not that she’d ever thought he was perfect. But it soured something in her.

   Vowing to herself to remain secluded, she walked along the shore, visited the museums, and went to the marketplace. Charleston was a city that was rich in history and art, and it fed her soul, took the focus off of her problems. The Charleston Museum kept her busy for the first two days, and she spent a few hours at a time studying each exhibit, managing to forget about what she’d left behind until nightfall, when she’d turn on her phone, checking in with Michonne and reading her messages from both Rick and Negan.

_-They let me spend more time with Carl today. He’s holding his own right now, and they’re going to try to wean him off the respirator later today._

_-His face is less swollen today, and Dr. Fisher is happy with the latest MRI. They’re pretty sure that the bleeding has stopped for good, and Carl’s responding to stimuli. I thought you’d want to know._

_-Jess, I know you’re not answering me, but I can see that you’re getting my messages. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how you found out about Lori and Shane. I never meant to cause you any more pain than I already had. I know you’re with another guy now, but I still think we need to talk, so please call me._

_-Carl’s awake! They reversed the sedation, and he woke up for a few minutes. He squeezed my hand, Jazz! I think he’s gonna be okay._

 

   Negan’s messages weren’t as nice to receive.

 

_**-I’m ready to talk.** _

_**-Call me.** _

_**-Where are you??? I went to your place, and your car wasn’t there. Are you at the hospital AGAIN?** _

_**-I’ve called you at least a dozen goddamned times and you haven’t returned my messages. What the fuck, Jessica?** _

_**-It’s obvious that you don’t give a fuck about me or my feelings, so fuck this shit. Do whatever you want.** _

_**-Please call me. I’m sorry I blew up, but I’m worried. Michonne said you left town, but she won’t tell me where you’re at and I’m losing my mind, gorgeous. Don’t do this to me.** _

_**-I love you, Jess. Please call me. I need to talk to you.**_  
  
   

   She had no intention of speaking to either one anytime soon, ignoring the guilt that plagued her on both sides. The only bright spot was that Carl was going to be okay, and she ordered flowers to be sent to him at the hospital, having them put her name only on the card. 

   As for everything else, she’d address it when she went home, whenever that was. Mrs. Tremaine prattled on about a pair of newlyweds that were due to arrive the following day, and she munched on a biscuit, drizzling it with honey before taking off downtown to explore. There was an artist’s showcase in the center of the park, and she wanted to check it out to see if there was someone or something that inspired her, something that she could take back to Michonne so that the trip wasn’t totally self-centered.

   She did, in fact, find a young woman who was selling portraits that reminded her of Mack paintings. Staged mostly in fields or wooded areas, the pictures were serene at first glance, but there were darker elements upon further reflection. A storm cloud looming in the distance or a dead patch of grass, and she bought three of her photos, paying extra to the young woman to have them sent to Atlanta, handing over her business card.

   The girl, Ella, was maybe in her early twenties, and she was thrilled with both the sale and the potential for exposure in a gallery. It made Jess feel good, happier than she thought she could be, because of the energy and excitement that Ella carried with her. 

   That feeling lasted until she checked her phone, finding a message from Rick that made her hair stand on end.

 

  _-Jess, please call me. Who’s Lucille?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot going on here, I know. But Rick isn't giving up without a fight. Woohoo!


	13. Chapter 13

   Jess left the artist’s showcase immediately after receiving the text from Rick, driving back to the B&B to pack her shit and check out. While Mrs. Tremaine tallied up her bill, she replied back to Rick, asking him where to meet after five that evening, calculating how long it was going to take her to get back home.

   He asked if she could come to the hospital and meet her in the cafeteria at six, and she agreed, stowing her phone away and handing Mrs. Tremaine her credit card, wincing at the total.

   How did Rick know about Lucille? Had he done research on Negan, or did they meet? Both possibilities frightened her for some reason, her past and present colliding at once, and she forced a smile to her face as the older woman bid her farewell, urging her to return soon.

   When she got in the car, she sent a short message to Negan that she’d be back in the morning so that they could talk, receiving a text back almost right away.  
  
    **-I miss you, bird. I’ve been miserable for days and I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.**

   She didn’t reply back, intent on getting on the road as quickly as possible, stopping at the gas station to refill her car and her stomach for the hours-long drive back to Atlanta, not that she had much of an appetite. Not knowing what exactly she was coming home to face, she waffled back and forth on seeing Rick, given how they’d left things.

   He still loved her.

   Negan loved her.

   And she had the distressing realization that she maybe/probably loved them both. Her feelings for Rick were there, damaged, but clinging to life, and her heart was torn nearly in two. Negan, for all that he’d hurt her the past few weeks, was there as well, and she honestly had no clue what to do. Take a chance on a future with him, or Rick, the one she’d banked her…everything on at one point?

   “Fucking hell,” she muttered, turning up the radio loud enough to drown out the voices in her head. This was too much to try to sort through right now, and she joined the steady stream of cars that were heading towards the interstate, sipping at her bottled water and tossing a few pieces of candy in her mouth.

   Thanks to the never-ending traffic, it was almost six by the time she reached the exit to downtown Atlanta, and she bypassed her street to go straight to Metro Hospital, parking on the second floor of the structure and jogging to the stairwell instead of taking the elevator, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she studied the map of the building since she’d never actually had to find the cafeteria before.

   It was on the main level, so she descended one floor, nearly running into Rick, who was pacing right by the elevators. His face when he saw her sparked a warmth in her chest, his blue eyes raking over her features like he needed to memorize them.

   “Thanks for coming,” he said in his lilting drawl, one that never failed to make her knees weak, and she nodded once.

   “How’s Carl?”

   “They had him up walking earlier,” he told her as they entered the cafeteria, going to the coffee machine to each grab a cup. “It was only for a few minutes, and it tired him out, but it was good. They think he’s going to need a few weeks of therapy, and he’ll be in arm and leg casts for at least six weeks.”

   “Thank God,” Jess said, at least one thing going right. “I’m so relieved that he's recovering.”

   “I am, too. I thought-“ Rick shook his head as if to clear it. “I never want to get a call like that again in my life.”

   Holding out his arm, she walked in front of him to the checkout, taking her place in line, and she had to bite back the urge to ask him about Negan, waiting until he paid for their coffees, leading her towards an alcove in the back of the room, away from the other diners.

   “Where did you go, Jess?” he asked quietly, holding the coffee cup between both hands as he tilted his head to the side.

   “I just had to get away for a while. I needed a break, and I needed time to myself.”

   “I’m sorry that I drove you to it.”

   “It wasn’t just you,” she sighed, ripping open a packet of sugar and dumping it in, immediately followed by another. “I’m having some issues with my boyfriend, too.”

   “Negan?”

   “Tell me what’s going on, Rick,” she implored, hating the nervousness that was seeping through her veins. “How do you know his name? And Lucille’s?”

   Rick’s face hardened, and it wasn’t from jealousy. It was a look that she’d seen many times over the years. It was his cop face, and he was all business, the anxiety that she was experiencing making her heart thump unevenly.

   “He came to my house, Jess. He showed up at my house this morning looking for you.”

   “What? Why?”

   “I don’t even know how he knew where I lived.”

   Jess knew, and it made her cheeks go flush as she tried to swallow down the lump in her throat.

   “He got your information from me. I put you down as my emergency contact when I first started seeing him.”

   Rick was thoroughly lost at that, and his eyebrows rose in disdain. “Huh? He makes his girlfriends fill out emergency contact forms?”

   “No,” she hurriedly spoke, waving away the insinuation. “I started seeing him a few months ago for my neck after the car accident. He’s a massage therapist.”

   “Oh.”

   The awkwardness hung between them for a few seconds until Rick took a deep breath and continuing. “He wanted to know where you were, if you were in my house, and I told him ‘no’, that I hadn’t seen you since you left the hospital. He didn’t believe me, of course.”

   “I’m so sorry.”

   “He’s a good looking man,” Rick said, and she could hear the ache in his voice. “He’s the kind of guy that I always assumed someone like you should be with, at least physically.”

   “Rick, don’t,” she cut in, her voice catching. “I always hated when you said things like that. I never thought of you as anything less than stunningly handsome. And that's not fair, because I wouldn't be with him if...”

   “I don’t mean to upset you, Jazz,” he reached out to take her hand before thinking better of it, even though her skin tingled from the near contact. “I just wanted you to know that he became a little…angry, because he thought I was lying to him.”

   “Angry, how?”

   “He got in my face, demanding to see inside my house to prove that you weren’t there, and I refused. He got really calm, and this eerie smile came over his face when he leaned against the doorway. He told me that other guys could try to take Lucille, but he’d never let it happen.”

   Her mouth dropped open in shock, the inability at that moment to understand what he’d meant, and Rick shifted in his seat, knowing that it was hard to hear.

   “When I asked him who Lucille was, he gave me a blank look at first, before correcting himself and telling me that he meant you.”

   She didn’t know what to say. Really, what could she? She had no idea what was going through Negan’s head at that particular time, and Rick was still waiting for an answer.

   “Lucille was his wife,” she finally spit out, dropping her eyes. “She died about ten years back, from cancer.”

   “Were they having any problems when she died?”

   It was a delicate question, one that she only sort of knew the answer to, and she shrugged. “Negan was open about his ‘indescretions’ before he found out she was sick. That’s really all I know.”

   “I realize that coming from me, this is going to sound disingenuous, but I’ve dealt with a lot of different types of people in my job, and I sense that there’s something underneath him, Jess. Something that's not quite right.”

   “You don’t know him, Rick. You’ve only had one interaction with him. While I’m the first to admit that he’s passionate and outgoing, he’d never…” she trailed off, making his hands twitch. It felt wrong on so many levels to be discussing this with him. Who she really needed to talk to was Negan. “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I really need to go.”

   “Jess, wait. I feel like there’s a lot more we need to talk about.”

   “You’re probably right, but now’s not the time. Give Carl my love,” she stood up, not waiting for him to answer, striding towards the exit so that she could wrap her head around everything that she was feeling and thinking. The time away that she’d so desperately craved had only made things worse, and tomorrow was too late to hash things out with Negan.

   Though she was tired and sore from spending so many hours in the car, she drove to his factory as the sun disappeared below the horizon, going around the back of the building where he normally parked, finding the lot completely empty, and she sat there for a few minutes, debating on whether or not to call him, but something told her to try a few other places, to see what he was up to without alerting him.

   So, she drove to the Standard Lounge first, moving slowly through the lot as she looked for his car, not finding it. After that, she tried Phillip Blake’s house, but the lights were out and there seemed to be no one home. Maybe they’d gone to dinner, something he and Negan were prone to do throughout the week. Her last-ditch attempt before just manning up and calling him was to try Monty’s, the little dive bar that he loved so much, and she got a bizarre feeling of accomplishment and anger as she parked her car.

   What she wasn’t prepared for, what she denied down to her bones even after knowing his past was staring her in the face when she walked inside, finding him leaning against the bar as he smiled seductively at a blonde woman, tucking her hair behind her ear. It stopped Jess in her tracks just next to the corner of the bar, torn between tucking tail and running and storming up to him in a rage.

   Negan must’ve sensed someone watching him, because he glanced up, looking startled before pushing himself upright and starting towards her with a happy grin. The simple act broke her from her trance, and she retreated towards the door, sucking in a lungful of air to keep from bursting into tears.

   “Hey,” he said, following her outside. “You’re back, gorgeous.”

   “Yeah,” she said woodenly as he came around her right side, holding out his arms. “I figured I’d come back early since you’re so miserable and all with me being gone."

   His arms dropped to his sides, and she caught a flash of indignation in his eyes, quickly replaced by something was approaching ease. “I couldn’t sit at home another night, and I ran into some old clients. We were just catching up.”

   Reaching out, he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly.

   “Let’s go to my place so we can talk. There’s a lot I need to say, and I don’t want to grovel on my knees in a dirty parking lot.”

   “Have you slept with anyone else since we started seeing each other?”

   He was thrown off, possibly for the first time since she’d questioned him about Kelly, though he recovered quickly, plastering a confused expression on his face.

   “What? Why would you ask me such a ridiculous question?”

   “I’d hardly call it a ridiculous question, given your past history, one that you willingly admitted to. Have you?”

   “No, I fucking haven’t,” he replied in a huff, dropping her hand. “I don’t know what you’re implying, but that woman is an old client-“

   “So, if I walk in there and start asking around, none of those women will say they’ve slept with you in the past few months,” she pressed, the base of her skull tingling with a fiery heat that was slowly working its way down her spine. She wanted to be wrong. She prayed she was wrong, but something about the way he was looking at that woman was sticking in her soul, her gut, making her want to vomit.

   “I told you, I haven’t slept with anyone,” he barked, turning away from her. “Let’s go, because we obviously need to have a heart to fucking heart to clear some things up.”

   As he started towards his car, she stepped up to the door of the bar, placing her hand on the knob, and his voice rang out behind her.

   “If you can’t believe in me, we’re through, Jessica.”

   She froze, her hand lingering on the brass as a shudder ripped through her. “You can go in there and question anyone you want, and you’ll find out I’m telling you the truth, or you can trust in me and come home so we can talk.”

   He was issuing an ultimatum, a veiled threat, and she snapped, unleashing a torrent of obscenities without turning around.

   “Are you fucking kidding me? You want me to trust you? The way you trusted _me_ , Negan? Making me feel like shit for going to the hospital to check up on a boy that meant the world to me? Or like you showing up at Rick’s house demanding to be let inside to make sure I wasn’t there? That kind of trust?”

   “You talked to Rick?”

   “You’re goddamned right I talked to him,” she finally whipped around to see the absolute outrage on his face, making him look deranged, and he stalked towards her, making her hit the door with her back.

   “You fucking talked to Rick Grimes before you came to see me?”

   “Well, you were just too _miserable_ to deal with tonight, weren’t you? Flirting with another woman. Tucking her hair behind her ears. I do that with all _my_ clients, too, or didn’t you know?”

   “Don’t you even _try_ to fucking turn this around on me, Lucille,” he roared, towering over her, a drop of spit flying out of his mouth and hitting her chin as the door opened, sending her into his chest. A drunk old man stumbled out, unaware that he’d slammed into them, and she pushed away from Negan, regaining her balance, but he kept hold of her forearms, as she panted, moving into hysteria.

   “I. Am. Not. _Lucille!_ ” she screeched, making both Negan and the old drunk jump. He dropped his hands like he’d received an electric shock, all of the anger draining from his face, and she fled with him in hot pursuit.

   “Jess, I’m sorry. Please stop.”

   “Stay the fuck away from me,” she made it to her car, unlocking it and jumping inside as he caught up to her, placing his hands flat on the window with tears in his eyes. Peeling away, she started to sob when she got to the street, glancing back to see him in the same spot, watching helplessly as she drove away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, the reality of the situation is starting to sink in for Jess, the poor thing. Negan's finding it harder and harder to keep a handle on his past. Stay tuned!


	14. Chapter 14

   As soon as her eyes opened the next morning, Jess turned on her phone and sent Michonne a quick message that she was back and that she’d be there to open the gallery for the day. Michonne was kind enough not to overload her with questions, and Jess went straight into the bathroom, showering as she went over the previous night in her mind.

   Negan was a liar. Negan was more than likely a cheater, and he’d scared the shit out of her when she’d called him on it, advancing towards her with a look so foreign, so devoid of humanity that she wondered how in the world she’d had the courage to stand her ground at first. 

   Seeing him with that other woman, flirting with her and touching her…it wounded her barely recovered heart, and she started to cry as the water beat down on her head, wondering what was wrong with her that both men that she’d loved in her life felt compelled to seek out something- someone that wasn’t her. Was she defective? Was she lacking in some essential spark that kept Rick and Negan from truly loving her?

   Jessica didn’t know, but she was going to find out, one way or another, she resolved, stepping onto the plush bath mat and covering herself with a towel. Her suitcase was still sitting against the wall where she’d thrown it with all of her might the night before, and she bypassed it to look through her closet, extracting a purple dress and black cardigan, deciding that even if she felt like shit, she needed to look her best. 

   After speeding away from Negan, their blow-up occurring in the parking lot of his favorite pick up spot, apparently, she’d nearly wrecked the car, unable to stop sobbing as she drove, so shaky from the encounter that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to see his face again. The calls started not two minutes later, a constant vibration of her phone even as she hurried into her house, locking the door behind her. When they didn’t work, the texts followed, ranging from rambling apologies to flat-out begging her to please call. 

   It was so overwhelming, so badgering that she finally blocked his number, giving her enough peace to lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning, poring over every facet of their relationship, wondering why she was such a fool. How he could look her in the eye every day, knowing that he was lying, cheating, able to declare how much he loved her made her sick. 

   As she sat in front of her vanity, studying herself, the old insecurities came front and center, obscuring her view of her face. She didn’t see Jessica, a reasonably attractive woman with a good head on her shoulders, a decent sense of humor, and a big heart. She saw an easy mark, someone blinded by striking good looks and the need to be loved, and now she doubted that he’d ever really cared about her. 

   It took several minutes of fanning her face to keep fresh tears from falling, and she repeated the same mantra over and over so that she could apply her makeup and fix her hair. 

  _Not now. Never again. No man is worth this many tears._

   She said it enough in her head to believe it, however briefly, and after spritzing herself with her favorite perfume, she picked up her purse and blessedly quiet phone, heading out to work, to the one place that she could turn of most of her brain and immerse herself in the one thing that never let her down. She moved carefully out of her apartment, just to make sure that Negan wasn’t waiting out there to ambush her, and he wasn’t. Just her neighbor, Tony, coming home from the night shift, and they gave each other a quick wave and a smile, doing a little dance as they passed each other.

   The gallery was shut tight, and she unlocked the door, the smell of lacquer, paint, and incense filling her nostrils, stopping her just inside the door. That wasn’t the only reason, and her eyebrows rose as a huddled figure on the floor rolled over, stretching their arms out from under a dropcloth, surrounded by painted canvases and paintbrushes.

   “Hello?”

   A mass of hair popped out of the tan material, followed by a brilliant smile, and Jess sighed in relief, recognizing the young artist as she stepped around a few cans of paint.

   “Paul?”

   Paul Rovia got to his feet, shaking her hand before stretching, bending over nearly backwards as Jess watched enviously, wishing she was that limber.

   “Hi,” he breathed, completely relaxed and comfortable, even though the place was a mess. “Michonne’s letting me stay here while I'm working on new pieces, and I usually have everything cleaned up before she gets to the gallery. But I was up all night painting, and I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm.”

   “You’re sleeping here?”

   “Yeah,” he shrugged, his hair billowing out as he started for the bathroom. “I got kicked out by my roommate a while ago, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

   That was odd, because he’d made a good bit of money from his showing, but Jess kept her mouth shut, stepping around the mess to stow her purse. When he resurfaced, he was fresh-faced and just as happy, cleaning up the tarps and carrying his finished work to the storage room. The gallery was spotless not fifteen minutes later, and Paul perched on the chair, eating a banana like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

   “Can I ask you a question?” Jess said, sitting across from him, and he gave her a serene smile.

   “Shoot.”

   “Your showcase was a smashing success, and we sold every painting and sculpture.”

   “Yes,” he agreed brightly, taking another bite.

   “So, how do you not have a place to live?”

   “I take all of my profits and use it to pay for my mother’s care. She’s in a care facility, and without insurance…” he trailed off, shrugging. 

   “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching out to touch him lightly on the shoulder. 

   “It’s cool. She’s worth every sacrifice I’ve had to make. She’s got early-onset Alzheimer’s, and I wanted her to have the best life possible. Usually, I crash with some other artists, but I kinda wore out my welcome after so long.”

   Without thinking it through, she offered to let him stay with her, his head cocking to the side as he smiled genially. It’s not like she didn’t know him at all, but he wasn’t a good friend or anything.

   “The couch folds out. It’s not the most glamorous, but it’s pretty comfortable.”

   “Are you sure? You don’t know me that well.”

   “If Michonne trusts you in the gallery, I don’t see why not. I mean, you’re not a psycho, are you? You have to tell me, since I asked. I think it’s the law,” she smirked, making him chuckle. 

   “No, I’m not a nut, as far as I know. Unlike with my work, I’m pretty neat and tidy, so I won’t make a mess, I swear. And whenever you get sick of me, just tell me and I’ll leave. No hard feelings.”

   “Okay,” she took a deep breath, getting to her feet. “I get off at five, so if you want to meet me back here, I’ll drive you to my place.”

   “Thanks, Jess,” he hopped down, kissing her softly on the cheek. “You’re amazing.”

   Was inviting a near stranger to stay with her the worst decision she ever made? Probably not, considering the recent events in her life. In fact, it might be nice to have a roommate for a while, provided he really wasn’t a serial killer. Just to be sure, she sent a message to Michonne to let her know what she was doing, not that she was asking for permission. Her boss appeared okay with it, and she opened up the gallery for the day, going through the books after sneaking a peek at Paul’s work. 

   He was still working heavily with primary colors, a clear neomodern slant to the paintings. Cityscapes that were given a graffiti edge, pulpy street scenes. Not her expertise, but there was an underlying energy that radiated from them, enough that it made her smile as she went through her day, actually making a few sales. 

   Negan remained at the forefront of her mind, knowing that he wouldn’t just fade away into the past. He was tenacious, and it quite frankly surprised her that he hadn’t stormed into the gallery to demand the chance to plead his case. More than likely, he was going to ambush her when she got home, and as it got closer to quitting time, she began to get nervous, so much so that when Paul ambled in carrying a duffel bag, he stopped short, dropping it on the ground.

   “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

   “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sick. Not physically, anyway.”

   He guided her over to the chairs, sitting next to her and putting a comforting hand on her knee.

   “Talk to me.”

   Though they only knew each other on a professional level, she unburdened her soul in a way that she couldn’t with her friends, because he held no pre-formed opinions on her choices, not that she could see. Jess told him about her relationship with Rick, how they broke up, even the car accident that led her to Negan. His listened quietly as she explained their whirlwind courtship, Negan’s past with this wife, and the speed bumps that had started a few weeks ago, though she didn’t tell him exactly what happened when they’d had sex. 

   When she finally stopped to catch her breath, he smiled softly as he looked her over. 

   “I don’t know…I don’t know what to feel, other than used and heartbroken. The way he was acting at the bar, there’s no way he hasn’t been sleeping with other people, even though he told me he had no interest in other women.”

   “Is that what your gut tells you?”

   Jessica nodded sadly, feeling the telltale burning in her eyes that preceded a fresh set of tears. “He said that he’d cheated on Lucille, but once he found out she was sick, he dedicated himself to her, to caring for her until she died. Since then, he’d just gone from woman to woman, never settling down and never caring about anyone else. God, I’m so stupid,” she laughed, wiping her face. “How could I believe that a man like that would set everything aside for me?”

   “He’s an idiot not to,” Paul told her. “But you wouldn’t be the first person that was taken in by a handsome guy, Jessica.”

   The look on his face rivaled her own, and she surmised that it wasn’t only his mother that made him restless. Right next to her was a man in pain, and they sat there for a while just staring at each other, until Paul clapped his hands together, pulling her upright.

   “Let’s go get something to eat. My treat,” he said, dragging her to the door and scooping up his bag along the way. “I know a great Mexican restaurant that makes killer margaritas.”

   They drove to El Canelo, where Paul proceeded to order at least half of the menu, and when the waiter set down two huge drinks in front of them, he clinked his glass with hers, toasting to better days ahead for both of them. As they ate and drank, he told her more about himself, and she was completely charmed by the good-looking artist with the expressive eyes. 

   He’d been raised by his mother, never knowing his father, a product of a one night stand. Theresa Rovia had been an Earth child, moving him across the country throughout his youth, packing up and picking a new home at whim. She’d work odd jobs while teaching art to anyone that was interested, staying at communes or enclaves for fellow creative people, Paul told her fondly. They’d finally settled in Atlanta when he turned fifteen, and she’d gotten a job at an elementary school, a favorite teacher for hundreds of budding artists, and it had fostered much of his vagabond lifestyle. 

   “She knew I was gay, probably before I did,” he chuckled, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork and nibbling at it. “And once I finally acknowledged it to myself, she was my biggest cheerleader. I mean, she was always trying to fix me up, you know?”

   “She sounds awesome.”

   “She was. I mean, she _is_ ,” he corrected himself. “She taught me to see the beauty in the ignored. The things that you see every day, the ones that you no _longer_ see, actually. A flower growing in a pile of weeds, or a stained glass window on a street that you drive down all the time. All the little details of our lives that we’ve grown accustomed to. It fuels me.”

   “You have a raw talent,” she munched on a chip. “You give the urban landscape a goose of color. I dig it.”

   Paul grinned, and he rested his chin on his hand, studying her. “Thank you, but I sense that it’s not your favorite genre.”

   “I appreciate everything.”

   “I’m not offended. We all have certain things that appeal to us. So, who’s your favorite?”

   Jess waxed poetic about a few artists that spoke to her like no other, including her beloved Jon Paul Mack, bringing up a few pictures on her phone, not quite drunk, but not completely sober, either, pointing out her favorites, how his underlying morose touches brought a gravitas to what at first appeared to be pedestrian scenes. 

   “You should see your face when you talk about him,” he winked at her. “I’d almost believe that you have a crush on this Mack guy.”

   “I admire him,” she replied, tucking her phone away as she pushed her plate to the center of the table, finally stuffed. “He’s the definition of perseverance. After his wife and child died, he went on to create such beauty out of his pain. He gifted the world with his tragedy, as horrible as that is to think. If it were me, I would’ve curled into a ball and wasted away.”

   “Nah, you’re tough. You’re a badass chick, and if I were straight, I’d be all up on that,” he snorted, signaling for the check. “Are you all right to drive, or should we call for a ride?”

   Jess turned her head rapidly from side to side as Paul stared at her, and when no dizziness came, she gave him a thumbs up. 

   “I’m good.”

   “Then let’s blow this pop stand, as my mom used to say.”

   Arm in arm, they left the restaurant, clambering into her car as Paul sang an old Oscar Meyer hot dog song. They were only about ten miles from her apartment, and he turned up the radio, forcing her to car dance with him until they reached her street, where she slammed on the brakes, making him fly forward. 

   Negan was parked in front of her apartment building, and everything came rushing back, the good feelings that she’d built up dissipating like they were constructed of steam. 

   “Shit, is everything okay,” Paul stuttered, looking between her and the driveway. “Oh no, is that him? Do you want to go somewhere else?”

   “No,” she managed to squeak out, slowly lurching the car forward and turning into the driveway, bypassing him to her usual spot. She could see him get out of the car in the rearview mirror, barely able to turn off the ignition since her hands had started to shake. She _knew_ he would do this, god damn it. 

   He was at her car door before she opened it, pulling it wide as Paul scrambled out of the other side. 

   “Jess,” his voice was cracked and raw again, like the night after he hurt her neck, and he smelled like vomit and alcohol, wearing the same clothes from the night before, a now-stained white t-shirt and jeans. His hair was stringy and lank, hanging over his forehead, two bloodshot eyes peering at her. 

   “Leave me alone,” she managed to say, getting unsteadily out of the car as Paul came around the other side with his hands up. “I don’t want to see you.”

   “I’m so sorry, for everything. Please let me explain.”

   “Hey, man,” Paul stepped between them, making Negan blink rapidly. “I don’t think now is the best time to do this.”

   “Who the fuck are _you_?” Negan growled, like the other man had appeared out of nowhere. 

   “I’m just a friend,” Paul insisted, “looking out for another friend, that’s all. Jess, why don’t you head inside?”

   She didn’t even bother replying, she just took advantage of the fact that Paul was blocking Negan’s path, and she hurried towards the front of the building, sure that she was going to be sick.

   “Get the fuck outta my way! Jess!”

   It took her two tries to open the front door, the knob smacking against the outer brick as she stumbled through, leaning with her back on the wall, taking ragged breaths.

   Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? What was he hoping to accomplish, showing up here stinking of vomit and whiskey? Did he think she was going to throw her arms around him and tell him all was forgiven? 

   Lost in thought, she jumped when two light raps on the door startled her, and peering out of the peephole, she saw it was Paul, standing alone. When she opened it enough for him to squeeze inside, he was carrying his bag and shaking one hand, red streaks across his knuckles. Unable to find her voice, she led him down the hall to her apartment, unlocking her door and striding inside, going straight to the bathroom to dry heave over the toilet. 

   Nothing came out, and she rinsed her mouth before going back to the living room where he was sitting with a wet towel held to his fist. 

   “Did you hurt him?” she asked quietly, lifting the towel to check and see if it was swollen. 

   “No,” Paul shook his head. “It mostly just stunned him, and I told him that this wasn’t the way to appeal for forgiveness.”

   “I’m so sorry that you got sucked into this.”

   “You have nothing to apologize for. In fact, I’m glad I’m here. If you would’ve come home alone, it could've been much worse. As it is, he’s currently waiting for a driver to pick him up.”

   “Huh?”

   “I ordered him a cab and swiped his keys out of his pocket,” Paul grinned, showing her his key ring as her mouth dropped open. “He can have them back when you’re ready to talk to him.”

   “I…don't know what to say.”

   “What are new best friends for?”

   Jessica flung her arms around his neck, taking a shuddering breath, feeling like she had someone in her corner. Someone that, despite knowing her for a short while, could be her confidant, without judgment and without reserve. 

   “Thank you, Paul.”

    “All my friends call me Jesus.”

   "Thank you, Jesus."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Jess gets a roommate and protector, which she desperately needs. I think Jesus is an upgrade from the cat she was contemplating. :)


	15. Chapter 15

   “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

   Jesus lingered at her car window, resting his elbows on the open area, poking his head inside as Jess shook her head, smiling even though her heart was ready to leap from her throat and make a run for it. 

   “I’ll be fine. We’re in a public place and Negan won’t make a scene, not again.”

   She wasn’t actually sure of that, but at least with other people around it would be easy to slip away if she couldn’t handle seeing him. She’d spent the last two days really thinking about how she wanted to deal with the fallout from her encounters with him, finally unblocking his number and requesting that he meet her after work today to give him the keys to his car and to talk, briefly. 

   He’d agreed almost immediately, as if he was just waiting for her to contact him, and she re-blocked the number, not wanting to discuss anything beforehand. When she told Jesus, he offered to drive Negan’s car over, making it easier on her, and she was currently trying to reassure him that it was okay to go. Jess needed to do this on her own, committed to getting the answers that she so desperately needed to be able to move on. 

   The Kane Botanical Garden and Conservatory was founded in 1947, offering a plethora of beauty in the midst of downtown Atlanta, and Jessica came several times a year to see the new installations. Japanese gardens, tropical flora, and fauna, it was richly fragrant and colorful, just another place of natural art, another passion in her life.

   “Really, I’ll call if it gets dicey. I just want to get this over with.”

   “All right,” Jesus sighed, tapping the hood of the car as he stood up. “I’m going to head back to the gallery. I’ll be working late tonight, so just let me know if you need me. I can be here in twenty minutes.”

   “You have your house key?”

   Grinning, he produced the spare that she’d given him, showing it to her like a child before tucking it back in his pocket. He loped away, jogging towards the city bus that was just pulling up, stepping on with an effortless grace that she envied. 

   Jess headed inside since she purposely came early, wanting to find a place that was visible yet private, settling on the orchid display in the Demeter room. There were a set of benches next to the impossibly alluring Vanda Coerulea. Blue orchids were a rarity, that much she knew, and she shut her eyes, breathing in the diverse scents of the competing varieties, picking out cinnamon and vanilla when she felt someone sit down next to her.

   She didn’t open her eyes right away, instead silently telling herself not to panic. Three weeks ago, Jess was completely at home with this man, thinking that he’d never hurt her, and now…now she was struggling to hang on, her hands curling into fists as she finally opened her eyes, staring straight ahead. Without a word, she set his keys on the bench between them, jerking her hand back when he tried to close his fingers around hers.

   “Don’t.”

   Turning her head slightly, she opened her eyes, nearly rocking back when she saw him. He was clean-shaven, dressed in black trousers and a crimson shirt, but there were deep lines around his eyes, and his color was still sickly. He looked like a distorted version of his normal self, blurry around the edges and poorly drawn. 

   “Thank you for seeing me,” he said, retracting his hand as the keys lay unclaimed on the seat. 

   “I’m here for answers, ones I feel I deserve.”

   He nodded before turning to look at the display, maybe steeling himself to tell the truth for once in his life, and he leaned forward, perching on the edge of the bench. 

   “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

   Jess didn’t want to know any of it. She _needed_ to know, to be able to move on, to let another painful betrayal go and see Negan as he truly was, not just as he tried to present himself.

   “Did you sleep with Kelly?”

   “Who?”

   “Kelly,” she refused to look at him, instead counting the leaves of the blue orchids. “The woman that you said was interested in investing in your expansion right when we first started seeing each other.”

   “Yes, I did.”

   She knew it deep down, but it was still like taking a physical blow to the chest, leaving her gasping for breath even as he reached out to touch her, prompting her to cringe away, finally meeting his eyes. “Why would you lie about it? We’d just met, for fuck’s sake.”

   “I broke it off that night. It was the last time I ever saw her, so in my mind, it was over. We were only hooking up once in a while, and it wasn’t like we were dating.”

   “That still doesn’t explain why you lied to me.”

   “Because the look in your eyes when you saw her walk into my office just about killed me, Jess. You were like a timid little rabbit, ready to flee any sign of danger, and I didn’t want to scare you away. And after, at your apartment, when you told me about asshole Rick…”

   Negan stared down at his hands, his index fingers forming a point as the others linked together, reminding her of the old ‘church and steeple’ game. There were at least a dozen other people in the glass room that were admiring the flowers, and all of them were happy. Holding hands, murmuring quietly. None of them were getting their worlds turned upside down like Jess was, and she turned slightly, bringing her leg up to her side and pressing it against her chest. 

   “How many others over the last few months?”

   “Just a few. Less than half a dozen.”

   “Gee, is that all?” she laughed, nearly swallowing her tongue. It made Negan tense up, hunching over as a couple stopped in front of them, the woman resting her head on her lover’s shoulder, and Jess ached from her head to her toes, because someone else had probably been doing the exact same thing with Negan while she sat at home. Several someones, to be precise. “All this time, you let other women into your bed, laying their heads on your chest where I did, touching them the way you touched me, and it didn’t even phase you when you told me you loved me.”

   “I _do_ love you,” he said emphatically, his head dropping further towards the floor. “It wasn’t romantic, and I wasn’t looking for any genuine feeling from those other women. It was just about sex.”

   “Why?”

   “What do you mean?”

   “If it was just about sex, about needing to get laid, then why not just jack off or call me? Why go find some stranger and screw them?”

   “I don’t know. I don’t know why I felt like I couldn’t come to you. Maybe I didn’t want to bother you, or make you feel like the sex was all I cared about. Or maybe, I was afraid.”

   “Or maybe, you really didn’t want to leave your old life behind,” she told him, looking over his shoulder. “What does love mean to you, exactly, Negan?”

   “Huh?”

   “I want to know what your definition of love is. You’ve been telling me that you love me for a while, and I’m curious as to what that is, in your eyes.”

   “The same thing as everyone else,” he shrugged, even though his voice caught in his throat. “I care about you, more than anything else in the world. You’re the last thing I think about before I go to bed, and the first thing when I wake up, Jess. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m just still so fucking screwed up by the mistakes of my past, and I don’t want to end up back there, alone.”

   “ _Back_ there? You never fucking left it _behind_ , Negan. And if I was on your mind so much, there’s no way you’d be able to get it up for another woman.”

   The couple in front of them turned around, obviously hearing her outburst, but she didn’t care. She’d just been decimated by him, and now, it was her turn to hit him where it hurt. “Whatever really happened between you and Lucille, it wasn’t just about her cancer, and it wasn’t about your wandering dick.”

   “Wrong,” he hissed, glaring at her like she was the one that had hurt him. “It was all about me, and I told you that already.”

   “No,” Jess picked at her thumbnail, pushing on. “You told Rick that other men would try to take Lucille away, but they’d fail, and the other night when you cornered me against the wall, you accused me, or _Lucille_ , of trying to turn this around on you. At this point, I don’t care, because I’m more concerned with the fact that you lied to me, you used me, and you hurt me.”

   “I want to make this up to you,” Negan said, sliding closer to her, though he didn’t actually touch her. “I meant it when I said I loved you. I do love you, and I know I screwed up. I know I fucking kept a part of myself tucked away from you, and I think it’s because I was scared. I lost my wife, and it didn’t really sink in that you were done with Rick. I think-“ he stopped, searching her face for any signs that she was receptive and not finding anything but misery. “I _feel_ like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. That you were going to say or do something, go back to Rick, and when you rushed off to be by his side at the hospital, I knew it was happening.”

   They seemed to be going in circles, and somehow all of the blame for his faults were landing at her feet. She needed distance from him, to not let him turn this around on her, and she stood up, heading towards the other side of the conservatory, gripping onto the window pane as she watched cars leaving the parking lot. It was almost closing time, and she didn’t want this painful conversation to leave this enclosure. She wanted to bury it under the dirt and dust off her hands, to be done with the acute ache that everything about this was inflicting on her.

   “I’ll do anything to make this right. I’ll tell you where I am every minute of the day. I’ll see someone about my…proclivity to sex, and I swear to never hurt you again. Please just give me another chance.”

   The heady floral smell was starting to make her sick. It had turned on her, and instead of calming her, it was like it had begun to choke her, tendrils and vines that were rooting her to the floor, and she took a ragged breath, meeting his gaze. 

   “No. I can’t,” his head dropped and his eyes shut, his nostrils turning red as her vision blurred. “All I can do is tell you that I hope you talk to someone, regardless. If you seek help, real help, then maybe we can be friends, because no matter what you’ve done, it doesn’t change the fact that I care about you and what happens to you. I just can’t… _love_ you anymore.”

   “Jess-“

   “I have to go,” she managed to choke out, dodging his outstretched arm and skirting around the orchids towards the exit, making it back to her car in a matter of minutes. His was still parked next to hers, and she needed to get away before he tried to talk her out of it, because he just might, and it wasn’t fair. Jess was trying to do the right thing, here, and cutting him completely out of her life the way she’d done to Rick wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t take the sting out of the demise of their relationship, and she really did want him to get help. If not for himself, then for the next person that came along and thought that they were the one for him. 

   Jesus was still out when she got home, and she was thankful, heading straight for her room and throwing herself on her bed, resolving to just cry it out and be done with it.

   But nothing came, just the oddly deadened feeling in her body and soul as Negan’s confession kept repeating itself on a loop. 

    _A half-dozen women. I was afraid of being happy. You going to Rick made me upset._

   What bullshit. 

   Sitting upright, she stalked back into the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine and her peanut butter heart that had been sitting above the fridge, plopping down on the couch and turning on the television. Jess didn’t get a wine glass, she just chugged it straight from the bottle in between gnawing on the chocolate, searching for something funny to watch so that she didn’t have to think, other than the passing, absurd thought that at least she didn’t waste three years on this relationship, only to end up hurt again. 

   Settling on a slapstick comedy, she ate half of the heart, enough that her stomach started to churn, and she reached for her phone before she could talk herself out of it, sending a quick text to Rick.

    _-How’s Carl doing?_

   She hadn’t spoken with him since she left him in the cafeteria, and unlike Negan, Rick erred on the side of too much respect for her need to distance herself from her pain. 

  **-He’s doing well. In fact, he’d like to see you if you have the time.**

   Jess smiled at the screen, immediately overcome with anxiety about seeing Carl after everything that had gone down, not to mention the fact that his bitch of a mother would probably be there, and her blowup at Lori probably sent her into a fit that rivaled any two-year old’s tantrum. 

    _-I’d love that. When can I see him?_

    **-How about tomorrow? He’s been moved to the third floor, so visitor’s access is less restrictive. It 2 o’clock all right?**

  _-I’ll be there_.

   

   Jess set her phone down, polishing off the bottle of wine when one more text came through, and when she glanced at it, her stomach, already in knots, added one more, one that was a little different than the others.

 

     **-I hope you’re well, Jazz, even with everything going on in your relationship. I hope you’re happy.**

   

   She wasn’t, but it made her chest tingle that he cared, because she knew it was genuine.

 

 

  
    _Take it. Stand there and take it._

 

   Negan listened to his conscience for the first time in a long time, the devil on his shoulder suspiciously silent as he reached out for Jess, the tips of his fingers brushing her jacket as she left him alone, surrounded by flowers. 

   He’d gone too far this time, and there was no way back into her arms. He’d hurt her so badly that she couldn’t look at him the same way, he knew it in his bones when she met his eyes one last time. They held the same pain, built up the same wall as the brown eyes that still haunted him in his dreams, and he felt it in his marrow that he’d lost her.

   All because he wanted to fuck around with Amber, the hot little blonde that had been eyeballing him at Monty’s. If he could’ve kept his dick in his pants just once, one motherfucking time, he wouldn’t be alone again. The unease that he’d felt when looking up to see that Jessica was there only grew, especially when she asked him if he’d slept with anyone else since they’d gotten together. 

   A few warning words were enough to stop her at the door before actually going back in and questioning the women inside, but it wasn’t enough to quelch the fire inside her, because she wasn’t an idiot. Hell, she’d nearly fucking busted him red-handed, and he’d flashed back to the days with Lucille, when she’d had enough of his bullshit, and for the second time that day, her name fell from his lips instead of Jessica’s, without him knowing it.

   Rick Grimes had been nothing like he’d thought when he showed up there, positive that his little bird was there with him, laying in his bed with her legs wrapped around him. Haunted, he was. Haunted by the mistakes of his past, and when the other man opened the door, he knew that if he didn’t keep ahold of her, Jessica would end up with this fucker again permanently, and it wasn’t because of his looks. 

  Blue eyes, golden brown hair, and rugged good looks. Negan was secure enough in his manhood to admit that other men were attractive, though he was by far the better specimen. But from the first glance, he could tell that this guy was one tough fucking customer. Besides that, Rick the Prick exuded righteousness and power. He could feel it as he sized Negan up, unnerving him enough that his old insecurities came bubbling up to the surface, making him say Lucille’s name. 

   Rick had picked up on it immediately, and even when Negan corrected himself, Rick wasn’t buying it. There was a spark of suspicion that formed in the cop’s face, and Negan tamped down on his anger, dressing it up with concern that Jess was nowhere to be found, and he’d beat a hasty retreat. 

   She’d been gone for days, and no matter how many times he called her, he texted her, she hadn’t answered back. Where the fuck did she go? How could she just up and leave, especially since he’d left her a note about how upset he was? Negan spent those days spiraling out of control, feeling as lost and helpless as a fucking neutered dog, just like before Lucille left him.

   And then she finally replied that she was coming home the following day, and he felt like the strings of tension that had held him stagnant were cut, allowing him to move, to rebound. So, he’d gone to Monty’s, intending only to get a drink and kill time before she got back. Amber had been the one to approach him, dressed in a little blue number, her breasts front and center as she licked her lips, zeroing in on him like a heat-seeking missile. He would just get it out of his system so that he could rededicate himself to Jess, be the man that she needed. 

    _You can still get her back. Go to counseling. Tell the doctor what he needs to hear and show her that you’ve changed._

   Yeah, that’s what he would do. He could still salvage his relationship. He wouldn’t have to be alone. Step one was ditching the women for good, no matter how strong his urges got. His left hand would have to do until he proved to Jess that he’d changed. She was the one. He’d fucked up with Lucille, past the point of no return, but if there was any way to get his little bird back, he’d do it. Her saying that she’d support him, that she’d give him her friendship was a lifeline. Negan would tear everything to the ground, light it the fuck up, and rebuild her trust in him.

   He drove home, less distraught than he was when he drove to meet her, until he pulled around the back and saw that a package had been delivered. When he got closer, he could tell that it was a picture, and when he checked the delivery address, the Anthony Gallery label made his mouth go dry. Carrying it up the steps, Negan paced around after he’d leaned it up against the counter, weighing the pros and cons of opening it, not sure that he had the strength to deal with how fucking thoughtful she was, not after what he’d done to destroy it. 

   Finally, the curiosity overwhelmed him, and he ripped the thick, brown wrapping off of his Valentine's Day gift, his mind wiped clean of any coherent thoughts. She’d found him a near perfect replica of the birds that he loved so much on her back, wings spread in flight towards the horizon, and he carried it over to the couch, propping it on his lap as he touched the canvas, tracing the outline of the smallest bird, terrified down to his soul that maybe he was wrong. Maybe he really lost her for good, and she was flying towards the sun.

   Towards Rick.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Negan and Jess are 'done', but I foresee much more between them. Negan won't give up that easily...


	16. Chapter 16

   The manila envelope was overflowing with itemized lists, swatches, and various other things that Jessica had collected for Negan’s spa, and she sealed it tightly, taping the edges for good measure. She’d written his address on it already as well as hers as a return one, and the bumpy package was ready to be mailed to him, so she’d decided to drop it off on her way to see Carl.

   As sad as she was that he’d broken her faith in men and her heart, she didn’t want the hours that she spent looking at things to help in the decoration of his new business to go to waste. It had nothing to do with the end of their relationship, and she had no problems forwarding all of the information, hoping that it was useful.

   He’d respected her wishes to be left alone so far, though it had only been less than twenty-four hours since she’d walked away from him and his pleas to give him another chance. Still, her life was in transition once again, and she left Aaron and Jesus with a wave, with Jesus giving her a thumbs up as a sign of encouragement.

   Both men had been incredibly supportive when she got to work, breaking down as soon as she hit the door, a delayed reaction to the previous night. They let her get it out, telling them in hiccupping breaths what Negan had said, how he was, in fact, unfaithful, and when she managed to get herself together, Aaron handed her a tissue, rubbing her back.

   “I’m so sorry, Jess. I don’t even know what to say.”

   “Damn,” she sniffled, wiping her nose. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me what’s wrong with me.”

   “Wrong with you?”

   “Yeah. There has to be some sort of reason I can’t keep a man.”

   “Honey, that’s not true,” Aaron bent down in front of her, brushing her hair out of her face. “Negan may be an asshole, but do you really feel that was the case with Rick?”

   Jess shook her head, unable to speak. Rick was a lot of things, but an asshole wasn’t one of them. He was just too honest, too straightforward, and she believed him when he told her that his internal struggle with Lori’s wanting to rekindle their relationship was rooted in a desire to give Carl a proper family. Maybe what hurt more than that was the fact that he didn’t come to her, didn’t explain what he was thinking. She wasn’t a monster. She could understand him wanting Carl to have the best life possible. It just sucked that for however brief, he discounted the fact that his son seemed happy and did have a good life.

   “Things are gonna work out for you,” Aaron murmured, catching a stray tear as he smiled. “This isn’t the last chapter in your love life.”

   “I didn’t want any more chapters. I wanted…”

   “I know,” he sighed, helping her to her feet and steering her towards the bathroom. “Just let it play out, Jess. It only happened yesterday. You’re allowed to be sad.”

   Taking a few minutes to get herself together, Jess emerged to see Aaron and Jesus talking, intensely. Their bodies were mirroring each other as they stood face to face, and when she started over, they broke apart, Aaron’s cheeks turning bright pink. Jess ignored it, even as Jesus started for the back room, rubbing the nape of his neck, and she raised her eyebrows at Aaron, who suddenly found a piece of paper on the desk very interesting.

   Hmm.

   It wasn’t about her, that was for sure, and she wondered if there was something going on between the two of them. She let her brain wander, imagining them together, and it took her mind off of her own sorry love life. Jesus and Aaron were both attractive men, and she couldn’t deny that they would make a ridiculously hot couple. Well, at least someone had a chance at something good.

   With the gallery pretty quiet, Jess had managed to get all of the books done and packed up the Sanctuary materials to give to Negan, munching on a salad while she rifled through the mail when a trio of packages arrived. The delivery guy set them just inside the door, and after she signed for them, she carted them to the office, noting that they came from Charleston. She called out to Aaron and Jesus, who joined her, both coming from different directions.

   “Tell me what you think of these.”

   Removing the wrapping, she posed them along the wall, stepping out of the way as Jesus and Aaron studied them, neither one saying much.

   “Where did you find these?” Jesus asked, squatting down to get a closer look.

   “An artist in Charleston. She was selling them at a showcase in the town square.”

   “They’re good. Real good,” he mused, picking up the one in the middle, tracing the lone grey cloud that hovered above the field of purple flowers. “There’s a lot of subtext going on here.”

   “I’m thinking of talking to Michonne about bringing her to town for an exhibition here. Maybe a group showing with some other new artists. What do you think?”

   “You know I’d be all for it,” Jesus grinned. “I can give you some names. There are a lot of great young talents kicking around in my circles.”

   The trio spent the next hour discussing a potential exhibition, writing down some specs for Michonne, and at one-thirty, she slipped out to head to the hospital to see Carl, stopping to mail the envelope and buy some candy and snacks, arranging them in a gift bag.

   She was as nervous as if she were walking into an inquisition, parking in the garage and holding the bag with both hands. The last time she’d seen him, Carl had been unconscious, swollen and looking so unlike himself. She knew that he was recovering, but there was still a sense of unease, the underlying need to know why he wanted to see her all of a sudden.

   There was a middle-aged woman at the information desk, and she asked Jess in a businesslike voice who she was there to see, tapping roughly on the keyboard. “Room 324,” the woman said, handing her a pink visitor’s pass. “The elevators are down the hall to the right.”

   “Thanks.”

   Joining the small group that was impatiently waiting to ride one of the elevators, she squeezed on, thankful that someone had already pressed the button for the third floor, her gift bag crinkling as it was smashed against her chest. When they stopped on floor two, a couple of people got off, allowing them some breathing room, and when she emerged on Carl’s floor, she scanned the plaque, turning to the right to head to his room, her pulse speeding up when she saw Rick was standing outside of the door, looking at his phone.

   The click of her heels alerted him, and he glanced up with a small smile, sending her pulse into an altered rhythm.

   “I was just getting ready to send you a message to see if you were still coming.”

   His smile faltered as his eyes scanned her face, and Jess cursed silently, knowing that he could tell she’d been crying. Her eyes always stayed puffy for a while after, and she glanced down at the floor. “Is everything okay?”

   “How’s Carl?” she said, ignoring the question, and he let out a deep breath, accepting that she wasn’t going to answer.

   “Go ahead in. I’ll, uh, give you some time and head down to the cafeteria.”

   “Are you sure?”

   “He wants to see you, Jess,” Rick said softly, his bottom lip turning down slightly, the way it always did when he was feeling emotional.

   Swallowing hard, she stepped into the room as Rick touched her briefly on the shoulder, the spot tingling long after he’d walked away, and she waited for Carl to look up since he was hunched over a stack of books and papers.

   “Hola, Yesica,” he said without looking up, and she damn near started to cry again.

   “Hola, Carlos.”

   It had been a running gag with the two of them, starting when he’d taken up Spanish in school. Rick had tried his best to help him study, but the words were too hard for him, especially with his twangy accent, and he’d gotten pissed when she and Carl would steal looks at each other, dissolving into giggles, with Rick finally throwing up his hands in frustration and telling them to do it themselves.

   Since then, she would help Carl study after school until he started dating Enid, and it pleased her more than he’d ever know that he remembered, that it still mattered. When he set the books aside, she came around the bed to sit next to him, getting her first good look at his face. There was still bruising, and his cheek was swollen, but his eyes were clear and solemn. His left arm and leg were in a cast, covered with signatures and hearts, most likely drawn by Enid, and she held out the bag until he took it, setting it aside to reach for her hand.

   “How are you feeling?” there was a catch in her throat as he squeezed her fingers.

   “You’d think almost dying in an accident would get me out of homework, but it doesn’t,” he flashed a crooked smile.

   “Carl-“

   “I’m sorry, Jess,” Carl said, rushing through the words. “I’m sorry I acted like a brat, you didn’t deserve it.”

   “It’s okay,” she reassured him, a sweet feeling of relief pouring through her veins even as he bit his lip.

   “It’s not, though. I was upset because you were leaving, and I didn’t want to see my dad hurt again, not after what my mom did.”

   “I didn’t walk away because I stopped loving your dad.”

   “Yeah, I know that. Now.”

   “What exactly did he tell you?” she pulled her hand free as he scooted over on the bed, making room for her. Jess sat facing him, drinking in his profile and marveling at how much he’d grown, even in the past six months or so. He was becoming a young man, and there were telltale signs of stubble along his jaw. Jesus, the little guy that she’d come to love wasn’t such a kid anymore.

   “That even after all this time, he felt guilty that I was growing up without both parents in the same house. His mom and dad were together until they passed, and so were my mom’s. But it’s not a big deal,” he shrugged. “I knew they weren’t happy for a long time. I mean, parents always think that their kids don’t see things or understand them. But I did, and they’ve always been better off apart.”

   “I’m sorry, Carl, I really am. But I just…it hurt. A lot.”

   “I don’t blame you, Jess. I just wish you two would’ve talked things out, that’s all. My dad is a great man, but he’s not exactly an assured guy when it comes to love, thanks to my mom. You know that.”

   “It’s not my fault,” she snapped, making Carl blink rapidly. “I spent three years head over heels in love with him. How is that not enough? How do you not believe in someone’s true intentions after all that time?”

   “You’re a knockout,” he said, his cheeks darkening slightly. “And you’re younger than him. More outgoing than him. He’s a nice-looking guy, but he’s not…flashy. He just didn’t have the self-confidence deep down to really believe that you’d want him forever, I think. And now that you’re dating someone else, he’s really been even more down on himself.”

   “Yeah, well…”

   Carl’s blue eyes burned into hers, a spark of hope glimmering in them, and she patted his cheek. “You’re not?”

   “Not anymore. But I’m not ready to date anyone else, either,” she cautioned him as he fought a smile. “I literally just got my heart and my self-esteem trashed.”

   “I won’t say anything,” he promised her, leaning up to give her a hug. “It’s just nice to know that there’s a chance.”

   They broke apart when they heard a shocked intake of breath, and Jess turned to see Lori standing in the doorway clutching her throat. Jess held back on rolling her eyes, and she stood up with a kiss to Carl’s forehead, pointing to the bag as a reminder.

   “Nos vemos pronto, Yesica,” he said as she picked up her purse.

   “Adios, Carlos,” Jess winked at him, passing by Lori without a word. As she stepped out, she could hear her hiss at her son, asking what Jessica was doing there.

   “I wanted to see her, Mom. You’re just going to have to deal with the fact that she’s staying in my life, even after what you did.”

   It made her smile like a fool as she headed for the elevator, her finger first moving towards the one button before pressing the L, intending to head to the cafeteria for some coffee to bring back to work.

 

 

   
   Rick sat at his usual table, going over some paperwork so that he didn’t get too far behind at work. His captain had been more than accommodating, allowing him to work the night shift while Carl recovered, but it left him scrambling to catch up on finishing his casework in between trying to work in a few hours sleep each day.

   “Can I get you anything else Mister Grimes?”

   He looked up to see Cat, the cashier standing over him, and he shook his head with a smile. “Nah, if I drink any more coffee, I’ll never be able to sleep.”

   “Okay,” she said, looking to the empty seat across from him before backing away to her register, and he saw Jess getting a cup of coffee, a faint smile on her face. It made his stomach warm, just seeing her looking somewhat happy, and he figured that she’d had a good visit with Carl.

   She caught him staring, waving with her eyebrows raised, and he put his head down, signing his name in the wrong spot, muttering under his breath as he crossed it out.

   “Catching up on work?”

   When he glanced back up, she was heading towards him, and he stood up, gesturing to the seat across from him.

   “Yeah, I’m doin’ the graveyard shift until Carl gets out.”

   “When’s that going to be?”

   “They think in a few days. I know he’s itching to get home. The doctors feel like he’ll need minimal therapy, and he’ll be back in school by the beginning of March. Did everything go all right?”

   “I’m relieved that he’s recovering so quickly,” Jess sipped at her coffee as her eyes drifted to the right. “We had a nice visit, until Lori showed up, acting like I’d stormed in and taken him hostage.”

   “I’m sorry,” he sighed, closing the folder and tucking it into the little bag he carried around. “I didn’t think she’d be by until after three.”

   “I don’t care about her,” she said dismissively, looking to the right again. Rick felt like she wasn’t engaged with him, not interested in talking, so he tried a different tack. “Did you get everything worked out with your boyfriend?” It killed him to ask about Negan, hell, to even think about her with Negan, but facts were facts, and he had to face them.

   “Who’s the cashier giving you dreamy looks?”

   “Huh?”

   He snapped his head around to see Cat turn away quickly, fumbling with a credit card that a customer handed her.

   “The girl? The one that’s so flustered right now she can barely do her job?”

   Rick turned back to see Jess studying him, making his ears start to burn, and he shrugged, fiddling with an empty sugar packet. “She’s here almost every day that I am. Name’s Cat, I think. She's just doin' her job.”

   “You should ask her out. She’s obviously interested.”

   Stiffening slightly, he dared to look her in the eye, seeing nothing. Not anger, not jealousy, and not even relief. Just nothing. “ _I’m_ not.”

   “You can’t spend the rest of your life alone, Rick. You need to get out there and see what you really want.”

   “I know what I want,” the words came out steady and true because what he wanted was sitting right in front of him, and he saw her bottom lip quiver for just a beat, and she stood up, grabbing her coffee cup.

   “Ask her out, Rick.”

   He watched her walk away with her head held high, the slight swing of her arms making him so achingly lonely that it was hard to breathe. Every time he saw her, it only reminded him of what an ass he was, and he mentally kicked himself daily for letting her slip away. She was obviously going to stay with that Negan guy, and with a burst of anger, he strolled up to the beverage display, plucking out a Coke for Carl and taking it over to Cat’s line, handing over his card without a word.

   “Your girlfriend is very pretty,” she said, keeping her head down.

   “Thanks,” he replied automatically, clearing his throat. “I mean, she’s not my girlfriend. Actually, she, uh, she thought that I should ask you out.”

  _What are you doing? You idiot!_

   The words were out there, hanging in the air like a cloud of desperation, but Cat’s head shot up and she smiled, ripping off his receipt and scribbling down her phone number as he stood there like a dunce.

   “I’d love to. Give me a call.”

   Tucking it in his wallet, he gave her a sheepish smile, walking away as quickly as his legs could carry him, unsure if he’d be able to make that call, but figuring that if Jess wasn’t going to give him another chance, he might as well try going on a date.

 

 

   
   Jessica stuck around long enough, hovering just outside the doorway to see if Rick was going to actually go through with it, and when the girl handed him the piece of paper after writing something on it, she took a staggered breath, retreating down the hall, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

   Once she was inside her car, she shut her eyes to keep from crying, because she was sure that she did the absolute wrong thing for the right reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jess...


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're in transition once again as we set the stage for the next part of the story. I hope you enjoy, because there's a lot of fun things I have planned coming up!

   “What is your reservation under?”

   Jessica smiled at the young woman that was standing behind the podium, stepping up so that she could be heard over the other people waiting to be seated. 

   “It’s under Blake.”

   “Ah, yes,” the girl ran her hand down the leather-bound book, nodding once. “The rest of your party has already arrived. Right this way.”

   Following behind the hostess, Jessica eased her way around the close-set tables, each one filled with diners as she was led to the back of Torini’s, where her friends were ordering drinks. Andrea caught her eye, giving her a dazzling smile, and she removed her coat, hanging it on the hook just to the right of their table. 

   Phillip Blake stood up, kissing her on the cheek as she greeted Michonne and Mike, the ever-present fifth wheel, and she took her seat, asking the waiter for a white wine.

   “Sorry I’m late,” she told them, setting her purse near her feet. “I had a client that couldn’t decide until five minutes after closing which portrait she wanted.”

   “You’re just in time,” Andrea grinned, reaching for Phillip’s hand. “Thanks for coming out with us tonight.”

   “I’m giddy right now,” Michonne joked, sipping on a glass of bourbon. “My mom took Andre for the night.”

   “Please. You’ll call at least six times to check up on him,” Mike teased her, and Jess laughed because it was true. For all that Michonne complained about needed adult time, she never quite gave up complete control of her son, even to her own mother. 

   “So, what are we celebrating?”

   Phillip held up Andrea’s hand, and there was a large engagement ring sitting on her ring finger, the two of them grinning like jesters.

   “Oh my God,” Jess whisper-shrieked. “You’re engaged!”

   Andrea let out a subdued yes, and Michonne and Jess stood up to hug her. “Congratulations!”

   “I’m officially off the market,” she murmured, leaning over to kiss Phillip softly on the lips. “He proposed last night.”

   “Well, spill,” Michonne ordered as Mike shook the other man’s hand. “Tell us everything.”

   Rose petals on the floor when she walked in, and Phillip waiting for her on one knee when she followed the trail to their bedroom. The entire bed was also covered in flowers along with chilled champagne and two crystal glasses. Jess thought it was incredibly romantic, for Andrea. She herself had no such requirements, not that Andrea had asked for such a to do. But she knew her friend well enough to guess that subtle hints had been dropped. 

   All Jess wanted or needed was a guy that loved her and a possibly a symbol of that love. Unfortunately, it was nowhere on the horizon for her, and she fixed a smile to her face as she listened to Andrea wax poetic about the previous night. She’d truly put her time with Shane behind, and Phillip looked on lovingly as they conversed.

   “Since neither of us are starry-eyed, we’re not going to have a long engagement or a huge wedding. In fact, we’ve already put things in motion and set the date.”

   “When?” Michonne asked.

   “April fifteenth.”

   “Of this year?” Jessica’s eyes widened in surprise. That was less than six weeks away. 

   “Yes, and my sister is going to be my maid of honor, but I want you, my very best friends, to be my bridesmaids,” her eyes shone with happiness as she reached for her and Michonne’s hands. “I promise no peach, chiffon bridesmaid’s dresses.”

   Andrea got two very enthusiastic yesses, and as the waiter brought over their drinks, Mike led a toast to the happy couple, their glasses clinking together. After they ordered dinner, Phillip cleared his throat, focusing on Jessica with a grimace. 

   “I just want to warn you beforehand, I’ve asked Negan to be one of my groomsmen. I hope it won’t bother you.”

   “It won’t,” she said, pretty sure that she was lying, but covering it up with a smile. “I wouldn’t expect any drama, Phillip. He’s your best friend. We'll make it work, because this is all about you two.”

   Andrea and Michonne looked concerned, but she waved it off. She was an adult, for fuck’s sake, and so far, she hadn’t heard from him. They’d ended things well over a week ago, and she hoped that he was doing well, if not trying to get help for his issues. To get the focus off herself, she peppered Andrea with questions about the wedding, what she had planned so far, and Mike started talking sports with Phillip until their food arrived.

   Since everything was going to have to be done in an accelerated fashion, Michonne and Jess offered to take Andrea dress shopping the following day, making her giddy. Their friend was meticulous to a fault, and Jess figured that she’d have them running their asses off over the next month or so, almost relieved to have something to take her mind off her own pathetic existence. 

   No Negan. No Rick. 

   She was a lonely gal once again.

 

 

   
   Phillip getting married was the best thing that could happen to Negan right now. His old friend had just given him the perfect opening to win Jessica back, and he sat on his couch, scrolling through the pictures on his phone until he found his favorite. He’d taken her out to dinner just after Thanksgiving, and they’d snapped a picture in front of the little Italian restaurant, with hundreds of twinkling lights behind them along the brick wall. 

   Jessica looked radiant, all pink-cheeked with her head tilted towards his, and he studied it as he made plans in his head, different ways to woo her back. He’d kept his distance, biding his time, even though he was dying to call her to try to repair the damage that he’d done to their relationship. He’d even called a therapist, one that lived outside of Atlanta so that no one in town would know he was going to get help with his…issues. 

   His first appointment was scheduled for Monday, and Dr. Freedman agreed to see Negan after hours so that he didn’t have to move around his own clients. He wasn’t a moron, and he knew that there were real things that he could work on, but he figured at least making an effort would go a long way towards showing Jess that he was serious about making amends to the hurt she said that he caused her.

   “Can you zip me up?”

   Chloe emerged from the bedroom with her shoes in hand and her dress back on, stopping in front of him. Negan set the phone face down on the couch, rising up to help her. 

   “Your money is on the table by the door,” he told her, patting her ass as she bent over to put her shoes back on. 

   “I was surprised you called,” she mentioned as she fixed her hair, meeting his accompanying smirk. “All the girls said that you were off the market, head over heels in love, and I didn’t believe them. But sure enough, you dropped off the radar. Is your girl outta town or something?” 

   Chloe ran her nails down his bare chest until he caught her hand, removing it and starting for the door. She’d served her purpose, and now he wanted to be alone. The sex had cleared his head and since he’d paid for it, it wasn’t just a random fuck like he’d been doing behind Jessica’s back. Easy and uncomplicated. 

   “Don’t worry about my personal life, sweetheart. I’ll be in touch soon.”

   He held the door open as she rolled her eyes, folding up the bills and showing them inside her purse. As she walked past him, she playfully blew him a kiss, and he shut the door in her face, locking it. He’d left the lights on in the hall, and a few minutes later, Negan heard the outer metal door slam closed, and then Chloe drove away. 

   He had six weeks to get his shit together, he thought as he showered, not to mention the potential for some face time with Jessica at the rehearsal dinner and the reception. Phillip had insisted on a proper bachelor party, and Negan had every intention of making it memorable, but not debauched. He sure as hell didn’t want it getting back to Jess, and he smiled as he walked out into his bedroom, fixing his gaze on the painting she’d given him. It looked fucking awesome over his bed, and he stripped the sheets, tossing them into the laundry basket for Olivia to wash, putting on fresh ones before heading to bed, feeling as hopeful as he could for what was coming.

   God bless Phillip fuckin' Blake for throwing him a lifeline without even knowing it.

 

 

 

   If Rick wasn’t great at maintaining romantic relationships, he was even worse at first dates. When he’d asked Lori to the spring dance, he’d been so nervous that he spilled punch down the front of his suit, and their pictures all showed him with a pale pink stain on his white shirt. Not to mention the fact that he’d forgotten that she was going to wear a purple dress, and he got her a garish blue corsage, a monstrosity that sat on her wrist awkwardly.

   With Jess, it had been even worse. Wanting to impress her, he’d made reservations at the fanciest bistro that he could afford, unknowingly parking on a patch of ice in the parking lot, a remnant from a freak winter storm. As soon as she’d stepped out of his car, she went down in a heap. Rick rushed around the front of the vehicle to find her on the ground clutching her wrist. 

   Needless to say, they never had that meal, instead spending the evening at an after-hours clinic, where Jess was diagnosed with a sprained wrist. She was completely unbothered, though, as Rick mentally flagellated himself, insisting that he stop for fast food when he drove her home. She invited him up to her apartment, and they sat and ate cold fries and burgers as they got to know each other. 

   It led to a kiss when he finally got up to leave, and Rick was probably halfway to love as he walked back to his car. Not even with Lori had he been so comfortable so fast, just sitting on a couch and talking. None of it had been important or groundbreaking in hindsight, just conversation that came on with an ease that couldn’t be forced.

   Now, Rick was on his way to his third first date in his life, a sad statistic on many fronts. After Jessica had insinuated that he needed to move on from her, he’d approached Cat, a cashier at the hospital and asked her out at Jess’s suggestion. They’d traded a few texts and one brief phone call, and Rick was already sweating as he pulled onto her street, looking for the right address to pick her up. 

   Cat lived on a busy mid-town street, and he steered his car along the u-shaped drive, parking next to the corner of the building that was marked for visitors. She’d told him to ring the buzzer for 4J, so he pressed the button, looking up at the overhead light that was flickering above him, the same feeling in his gut as a female voice asked who was there.

   “Rick Grimes. I’m here to pick up Cat Stone.”

   “Come on up,” the voice announced as the door buzzed, and he stepped inside the older building, walking down the brightly lit hall towards a set of elevators. When he reached the fourth floor, Rick headed to the right, taking a deep breath before knocking on the pale gray door. It opened almost immediately, and he was greeted by a young, blonde girl with blue eyes and a cheery smile.

   “Hi, you’re Rick?” 

   “Yes,” he stuck out his hand, thinking that she was very young, and maybe he looked like a lecherous old man. 

   “I’m Amy, Cat’s roommate. She’s just finishing up. Come on in.”

   The apartment was cozy, with a small kitchen to the right, a bistro table to the left, and a living room that was only able to hold a couch, a small table, and a television that was mounted to the wall. A few pictures dotted the walls, and the couch looked brand new. Amy waved him towards it, and he sat down, suddenly dry-mouthed as she went to the kitchenette and brought him a glass of water.

   “Thank you.”

   “So, Cat says you two met at the hospital,” Amy sat down next to him, placing her hands on her knees. 

   “My son was in an accident.”

   “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking horrified. “I had no idea.”

   “He’s going to be all right. In fact, he was released yesterday.”

   “Thank God,” Amy sounded relieved. “I can’t imagine how scary that was for you.”

   “Well, the doctors were great, and he has a really good support system.”  
Cat came walking in, prompting Rick to stand up, his nerves hitting full peak when she smiled at him. Normally, she was in a smock with her hair pulled back and no makeup, but now, she was dressed in a pair of black pants and a sparkly red sweater. Her brown hair was down and curled, and she smiled warmly as he gave her a wave.

   “You’re punctual,” she told him teasingly. “I’m impressed.”

   “You look very nice.”

   “Thank you,” she preened, grabbing her coat off of a little hook on the wall. Remembering that he was raised a gentleman, he helped her into it, and with a smile to Amy, they headed out for their date.

   

   “I’d ask you up, but Amy’s up there studying, so we wouldn’t be able to be alone,” Cat said, shifting in her seat to face him. Dinner had gone much better than he thought it would, and Rick would probably count it as his least problematic first date by far. They’d gone to a Mexican restaurant, one that Cat recommended, and the conversation had been relatively benign, just basic ‘getting to know you’ information.

   She was only twenty-four, which made him feel like a creep, but Cat was surprisingly mature, and she was working in the hospital cafeteria while she went back to school to get her elementary education degree. When he told her that he was turning forty that year, it didn’t seem to bother her at all. 

   “You look good,” she smiled softly. “I never would’ve guessed.”

   “Uh, does that bother you?”

   “Nope,” she said, munching on a tortilla chip. “Guys my age are really immature. I prefer more distinguished men.”

   Distinguished. That sounded a lot better than old, he guessed, and when they left the restaurant, she suggested going to the rooftop skating rink to hang out for a while. He had no interest, but Cat seemed really game for it, so they did. It ended up being fun, and she held tight to his hand as he flailed around on the ice. Other couples zoomed past them, and little kids skated circles around him, but he’d hit the ice for the first time in his life. It was a night for new things, and he was determined to continue down this path.  


 

   “That’s all right,” he assured her, absently playing with his car key as they sat in front of her building. “This was a big step for me tonight, and I had a really good time.”

   “I’m glad, because I’d like to see you again,” she leaned forward, kissing him softly as he held his breath, waiting for it to feel wrong. It didn’t, but it didn’t feel exactly right, either. He reached out anyway, cupping her cheek as she opened her mouth, initiating a stronger kiss, and when he leaned back, she gave him an approving smile. 

   “I’ll talk to you soon,” Rick told her as she got out of the car, and he watched until she was safely inside before driving away, feeling like she wasn’t the _one_ , but she was definitely _something._   
  



	18. Chapter 18

   Jessica sat on the gold and white brocade couch, sipping on champagne as they waited for Andrea to come out for her final fitting. It had been a whirlwind five weeks helping her to plan the wedding, and the end was in sight, just a week away.

   “Can you stop by the gallery tomorrow?” Michonne asked, setting the flute down and crossing her legs. “I know it’s your day off, but I want to discuss a few things with you?”

   “Shit, am I getting fired?” she joked, even though her heart had started to falter slightly. Usually when someone wanted to talk to you, it wasn’t good, but Michonne shook her head, making her braids dance along her shoulder.

   “No, it’s not bad. Just come by in the morning if you’re sober.”

   Jess chuckled before draining the last of her champagne. Andrea’s bachelorette party was that night, and it promised to be interesting.

   The two stood up as the bride-to-be came gliding out of the dressing room, looking so happy and radiant that Jess’s eyes started to water, and she clutched at her neck as her sister Amy followed behind her to keep the train from dragging along the carpet.

   “You look absolutely stunning,” she gushed, helping Andrea onto the dais as Claire, the owner and head seamstress bustled around, checking the waist to make sure that it was sitting properly. She’d expected Andrea to go for something simple, and it was, but there was a princess quality to it, with the flared skirt and the lace that overlaid the back. Swarovski crystals were dotted along the bodice and the hem of the dress, and she’d picked a cowl-style veil, held in with two combs.

   “Like an angel,” Michonne agreed, sounding like she was on the verge of crying herself. “I just can’t believe that you’re getting married in a week.”

   “I know,” Andrea moaned, lifting her arms at Claire’s prompt. “It just flew by, and I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

   “Sweetie, everything’s taken care of,” Amy assured her. “The rehearsal dinner is scheduled for next Friday after we do the run-through at the chapel. The reception is going to be perfect, and the favors will be done by Monday. The flowers are due to be delivered to the church. You’ve done it all.”

   “Are the bridesmaid’s dresses in yet?”

   “Tomorrow,” Claire said, plucking a pin from her teeth and pinching a square of fabric underneath Andrea’s right armpit, making it more fitted. She’d kept her promise about the peach, letting the girls pick their own colors in the same style. They’d settled on simple floor-length dresses with inverted V-shaped spaghetti straps on the back that ruffled with chiffon, going with jewel tones. Amy decided on the sapphire which matched her eyes and flattered her blonde hair, while Michonne went with the ruby red that popped against her skin. That left Jess with emerald green, and she secretly loved it, because it was her favorite color.

   When Claire finished up, Andrea reluctantly stepped down and headed back to the dressing room to change, and Amy went with her to help. Jess and Michonne wandered around the store, looking at accessories, and Michonne tapped her on the shoulder, showing her a dress that was so hideous, one had to wonder why someone would create such a monstrosity.

   “You should totally put a down payment on this,” Michonne teased her, and Jess rolled her eyes.

   “Yeah, ‘cause I’m on the fast track to marriage.”

   Michonne’s face dropped, and she hastily put it back on the rack, looking abashed. “I’m sorry, J. I didn’t mean it like that.”

   “It’s fine,” she waved it off good-naturedly. She was surprisingly okay at the moment, having settled back into singledom with minimal trauma. It had been just over a month since she’d had any contact with Rick or Negan, that latter only by text when he’d sent her a subdued message thanking her for the envelope filled with things that she’d found for the Sanctuary Spa. “I’m fine, ‘Chonne.”

   “Well, are you bringing a date to the wedding?”

   Andrea emerged, catching the question and giving her a curious look.

   “Nope,” Jess told her, linking her arm with Andrea’s. “I’m going to be a happy single.”

   “I could fix you up-“

   “Nope,” Jess repeated, shaking her head at Andrea. “I’m just fine on my own for the time being. In fact, I need to scoot. I’m having lunch with Carl, the only male I need in my life right now. I’ll see you tonight at seven.”

   Kissing each of the girls goodbye, she sauntered out, pleased that she didn’t falter at being reminded that she was single. She was really okay, and with time, she was able to look back on her relationship with Negan and see it for what it was, a way for her to learn what she wanted in her life. She didn’t need passion that came with drama, and she wasn’t going to jump headlong into love with someone that she barely knew. She craved stability in that particular area of her life. The impulsive part of her personality could be steered towards her love of art and all things creative, like the art fair that they were putting on the weekend after the wedding.

   Between the frequent nuptial planning, Jess had worked her ass off to procure artists for an urban showcase, with Jesus and Aaron’s help. Michonne had been easy to convince to have another exhibition at the gallery, and she was determined to make it a success. They’d put the word out through the community, and had gotten an abundance of interest, so much so that they’d had to turn a few artists away.

   Whistling as she hopped into the car, she drummed her fingers on the wheel as she drove to Rick’s house to pick up Carl, who should just be getting home from school. When he’d been released, the two had worked hard to rekindle their special bond, deciding to meet for lunch every Friday. The boy had gotten his casts removed this week, so she was anxious to see how he felt.

   She didn’t have to worry, because he came bounding out as soon as she pulled into the drive with a goofy grin on his face, slamming the door.

  “Hey,” she greeted him, tousling his hair. “How’re ya feeling?”

   “Like new.”

   “Okay, hot shot. Where do you want to eat?”

   “Olive Garden?”

   Jess laughed heartily as she backed out because she didn’t even need to ask. He loved the chain restaurant, and it was the second time they were going since they started their meal dates. There was one about fifteen minutes from Rick’s home, and they parked close to the door despite the fact that Carl insisted that he was fine.

   As they ate a late lunch, the mood was light, and he told her that school was going well.

   “I’m actually glad to be back if you can believe it. Sitting at home for weeks really sucked. There’s only so many times you can watch the Price is Right.”

   “Well, what’s the cost of a new washer and dryer?”

   “Nine hundred ninety-nine dollars and ninety-eight cents,” he said, sounding really sure of himself.

   They shared an appetizer as she questioned him about Enid, how they were doing, and apparently, she wasn’t the only one with relationship problems. Carl told her that a girl named Lydia had transferred to his high school, and she’d fallen hard for him, pursuing him even though he was already had a girlfriend.

   “Do you like her?”

   “She’s…different,” he said carefully, pushing his pasta into a pile. “I really care about Enid, but…I don’t know.”

   “You’re only sixteen,” she reminded him, “and I know how intense those feelings can be. Now is the time that you should take a look and see what’s out there. Date around and have fun.”

   “Because you don’t want me to end up like my dad?”

   Jessica’s mouth dropped open as she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

   “I get it, Jess. He dated my mom and then you, and he didn’t have a lot of experience.”

   They never talked about Rick, some sort of unspoken agreement between them, so she knew next to nothing about what was going on in his life.

   “You’re not your dad, and I never said there was anything wrong with dating just one or two people in your life. I’m sure there are lots of couples that met the loves of their lives in high school and are still together. But the fact that you’re doubtful may mean that you know that you might want to test the waters.”

   “Three,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

   “Huh?”

   “Dad. He’s dated three now. He’s still dating that girl from the hospital.”

    _Okay, don’t freak out. You’re the one that pushed him to do it._

   “I hope that he’s happy, Carl. I really do.”

   It was all she could manage to get out, and he thankfully let the conversation drop. They steered the conversation towards safer topics, though her mind kept going back to Rick, and when she drove him home, her stomach dropped when she saw that Rick was in the drive, getting ready to leave. He was dressed nice, with clean boots on and his ‘fancy’ coat. Normally he wore a beat-up, brown suede jacket, and now he was wearing a sleek bomber jacket.

   Pasting a sickly smile on her face, she gave him a wave before kissing Carl on the cheek and watching him as he walked over to his dad, who started for her car. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t talk to him right now, her mind taunting her with the fact that he’d done exactly what she’d asked him to do and moved on.

   “See you next week,” she called out the window, reversing to the street before Rick reached her. Jess was oddly breathless, her body beginning to overheat as she drove home to get ready for the bachelorette party.

  _You got what you wanted, stupid. Now another woman is dating him, all because you pushed him away_.

   She wasn’t ready, she argued with herself. She’d just broken up with Negan and her heart was broken, no matter how much she still cared for Rick. But after almost six weeks of dating this girl, they’d definitely slept together. Maybe he even loved her.

   Walking into her apartment, Jess went straight to the bathroom, popping a few antacids to ease the churning in her gut that was making her nauseous. Michonne was going to be there in an hour and she still hadn’t decided what to wear. Thank God Paul wasn’t there to see her mini breakdown. She’d been doing so good.

   “Fucking Carl,” she muttered, starting the shower. Why did he have to tell her about Rick and that woman?

 

   “Holy shit.”

   Michonne fanned herself as Jess got in her car, moving a stuffed animal off of the passenger’s seat and tossing it into the back.

   “What?”

   “You look super fucking hot,” Michonne grinned. “I pity the guys at the bars.”

   The only request that Andrea had for her bachelorette party was no lame strippers, so they’d gotten together with Amy and hired a limo to take them on a bar crawl after a late dinner at Andrea’s favorite restaurant, Micheline’s. Her friends from work were joining them, and all Jess wanted to do at that point was to drink and dance her cares away. Michonne, obviously the more responsible on, had offered early on to drive her to and from the party.

   An hour later, a very enthusiastic group of women pulled up in front of Phillip’s house, and the woman of the hour came out in a beaded red dress and a large gift bag, hugging and kissing everyone as she took her seat in the middle.

   “You guys, thank you so much!”

   Jess sat in the corner, looking out the window until Michonne took her hand, giving it a quick squeeze. She had no idea what was going on, but she knew her friend well enough to know that this wasn’t the same, happy creature that had been at the bridal shop earlier in the day.

   Resolving to fluff it off for another time, she turned her attention to Andrea, laughing and joking at dinner and giving her a sincere thank you for the bridesmaid’s gifts she’d gotten them, earrings and bracelets that matched their gowns.

   Three bars into the night, Jess was finally feeling good, her brain awash in liquor and loud music, and she joined the other women on the dance floor, swaying to the Rihanna song that was playing when she felt someone grab her from behind and grind themselves against her ass. Tilting her head, she saw a brown-haired guy leering at her, and she elbowed him in the gut, backing away from him. Why did some guys think that they had the right to touch women whenever they wanted?

   At just after one in the morning, she and Michonne went up to the DJ booth, slipping him a twenty and hurrying back to the bar. Most of the other women were gone, leaving just her, Michonne, Amy, and Tanya, Andrea’s co-worker. They were pouring another glass of champagne, and Jess sipped at it, knowing that she was so shit-faced that it was going to take an act of God to get her into the gallery in the morning.

   It was worth it when the song started, an old Elton John ballad, and they waited for just a beat, grinning when Phillip came striding through the crowd behind his fiancée, brushing the back of her neck with a single red rose. Andrea jerked in her seat, throwing her arms around him as she kissed him drunkenly, and he winked at Jess and Michonne. The stood at the bar, watching as he took her out onto the dance floor, melting into the crowd.

   They snuck out at the end of the song since Blake was going to be taking a very tipsy Andrea home, and Jess rested her head on Michonne’s shoulder as they rode to Amy’s house, dropping her off first. By the time they reached her apartment, she was dead on her feet, waving sleepily to her boss, who waited for her to get inside before pulling away.

   She fumbled with her keys, leaning against the door when it opened, and she tumbled into Jesus’s chest, snorting as she peered up into his unamused face. He’d been working like a dog over the last few weeks to get ready for the art show, and they’d barely seen each other.

   “You’re shitfaced,” he chided her, sounding like her father, and she rolled her eyes, making herself dizzy.

   “It was Andrea’s bachelorette party,” she reminded him, kicking off her heels, groaning in relief.

   “Oh, right. Did you have fun?”

   Jess tilted her hand from side to side, shrugging as she shucked her coat, making his eyebrows raise. Leather pants, a top that could barely be considered a shirt, he clearly didn’t approve, and she shook her hips in a taunting gesture, holding out her hand.

   “Come and cuddle with me.”

   Giving her a tolerant yet annoyed look, he locked the door and followed Jess to her room, stretching out on the bed as she removed her pants, snuggling up on his chest.

   “Why couldn’t you be straight, or why couldn’t I be a guy?” she sighed, making him laugh as he stroked her back.

   “What happened?”

   It came out with the force of a hurricane, the tears, and she told him in gasping breaths that Rick was involved with another woman, one she’d insisted that he ask out. “He’s- he’s probably going to marry her, and, and…” she slurred her words, shaking with alcohol-fueled emotion. This was hitting her as hard as it had months ago when she thought she’d lost him to Lori. Now, there was undeniable proof that another woman was sharing his bed. More importantly, his heart, and she wished she’d never walked out that door, that she’d fought for what was rightfully hers.

   “It’s going to be okay,” Jesus murmured, letting her wet his shirt with fresh tears. “Things are going to work out for you, Jess. You’re a good person.”

   “That’s easy for you to say,” she wiped her nose on his chest. “You’ve got Aaron now, and you’re in love. Everything looks better for those that are already happy. You people think everyone’s going to end up like you.”

   “ _You people_?”

   “Couples,” Jess breathed, throwing her leg over his as she started to pass out. “Happy, happy couples.”

 

 

  
   Negan stood on the balcony, watching the writhing mass of bodies below, his eyes drifting to one in particular as he sipped on a beer. He’d taken a big risk coming here, and he thought at one point that Jessica had seen him, but her gaze merely passed over him as she walked unsteadily towards the bar. At that point, he’d been on the main floor, leaning against the pillar that held up the upper balcony.

   Phillip had mentioned that the bridal party had asked him to show up at the end of the night to surprise Andrea, and when he’d let slip which bar they were going to be at, he couldn’t resist showing up to get a glimpse of his girl. For weeks, his thoughts revolved around her, so much so that he’d started to ease off of handling his clients, spending more time on the upper floors where the construction was taking place.

   He’d finally gotten off his ass and called his old buddy Dwight, another therapist, and he’d agreed to come in and work at the Sanctuary. It left him with more free time, and Negan threw himself into ordering furniture and supplies for the spa, and also for planning his reconciliation with Jess. The upper floor was now completely redecorated, just waiting for her to come back. Gone were the masculine sofas and industrial décor. Now, everything was more neutral, and he wanted her to have carte blanche to add her own special touches.

   As the music changed tempo, he nearly leapt off the balcony when he saw some random fucker start to grind up against his woman, but she immediately shut it down, elbowing the guy and moving away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t interested in anyone else, and after Blake showed up to collect Andrea, Jess headed out with the other girls, disappearing into the night.

   One week, he thought as he shook off a very horny drunk slut that tried to grab him by the waist. One more week and then everything would go back to the way it was.

   Humming to himself, he drove home, positive that everything was lining up perfectly. Negan was finally going to get it right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, a wedding...and more stuff.


	19. Chapter 19

   “Nervous?”

   Jess turned to look at Jeff, her bridal partner, and he was grinning as he gestured towards his arm where she had a death grip on it. Her knees were knocking together as they stood in the vestibule, waiting to walk down the aisle. 

   Negan was right behind her, and she could feel his stare burning a hole in her back. This was too much, seeing him twice in as many days, not to mention the fact that there were going to be fifty strangers staring at her in front of the church. 

   “Here,” Jeff said, pulling a flask from the inside of his jacket. “Take a shot. It’ll help loosen you up.”

   She heard Negan huff behind her, so she took it, gulping down a burning mouthful of whatever he was packing, her eyes watering. In front of her, Michonne stood stoically with her partner, Blake’s younger cousin, Max. Amy and Negan were carrying out the duties of maid of honor and best man, respectively, and after the rehearsal dinner the night before, he’d tried to make small talk with Jess, to no avail. 

   Politely, she excused herself, sandwiching her body between Amy and Michonne at the bar as she fought off a wave revulsion. For all the distance they’ve had over the past month or so, it hadn’t changed her feelings towards him. It still hurt to see him, to be reminded of the fact that he’d slept around with who knows how many women behind her back, yet somehow still able to look her in the eye and tell her that he loved her. 

   Jeff, her partner, was another one of Phillip’s long-time friends, and he knew Negan as well. She found him to be quite funny and engaging, and she was thankful that she ended up with him. Tall, with sandy brown hair and pleasing green eyes, he was attractive, not that she was looking to date anyone, but poor Max was way outclassed standing next to Michonne, who looked like royalty in her red dress. Portly and balding, he was clearly in awe of her regal stature and forbidding beauty, stealing glances at her with pink cheeks as they waited for the procession to begin. 

   Jess just wanted some distance from her ex-lover, his cologne drifting through the small space and bringing back memories that were now tainted with betrayal. The classic strains of Pachabel began, and after counting to ten, Michonne and Max took their first steps down the aisle. She and Jeff moved up a few steps, following suit after another ten seconds. 

   The pews of the Little Star Church were filled with friends and family, government officials and various work acquaintances of the bride and groom, and Jess stared over their heads with a vague smile until they reached the dais, and she winked at Phillip before taking her place on the bride’s side. Though the church was quaint, the happy couple had spared no expense in the flower department, and the platform was filled with arrangements that complimented the bouquets that the girls were carrying. Calla lilies, roses, and greenery were tied with ribbons that corresponded to the dresses, and Jessica watched Amy float down the aisle, loosely held by Negan, who looked gorgeous, she had to admit. 

   He locked gazes with her, almost pleading to give him some attention, some sort of sign that she was going to let him have an opening, and she felt her lips curl up briefly since they were all being watched, resting her hand on Amy’s shoulder as she took her place. 

   When the wedding march began, everyone stood up and turned to see Andrea walk down alone. Her mom and dad were gone, and she chose to remain unaccompanied, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Jess had seen her a least five times in her dress, but now, with all eyes on her, she absolutely glowed, a blonde angel with eyes as big as saucers and a loving smile on her face.

   Phillip looked ready to cry, watching her in awe as she made the slow trek towards him, and it made Jess tear up in happiness for her friend, once so absolutely destroyed by one Shane Walsh. Proof that a heart could heal itself, if only given the chance, and she mentally settled in as they said their vows, sealing their commitment. 

   Their kiss was short but sweet, and a round of applause broke out as the new Mr. and Mrs. Blake made their way to the front of the church, accepting congratulations as well wishes as the rest of the wedding party followed behind. They had two hours before needing to be at the reception, and Andrea wanted to have the pictures done at Piedmont Park overlooking the skyline and the water, so they piled into the limo, drinking a toast on the way over to the new couple.

   Somehow, she ended up between Jeff and Negan, resting her hands on her lap as both men’s thighs brushed up against hers. Michonne gave her a sympathetic look in between glares to Negan, and as soon as they parked, she shot out of her seat, taking a deep breath as she looked out at the sunset, just wanting to get a real drink and try to have some fun at the reception.

   The photographer was a riot, taking both serious and lighthearted photos, including a beautiful shot of the couple kissing against the backdrop of the city, their faces a warm orange as the light hit them just right, and Jess stood with her arms around Michonne, hugging her friend and now partner from behind. 

 

   The morning after she found out Rick was dating someone else, she’d gone into the gallery with a major hangover and a bruised heart, finding Michonne working at her desk on a stack of papers. It turned out she wasn’t in trouble at all. She wanted to bring Jess on as an equal partner in the building.

   “I had Andrea draw up some papers to transfer half of the ownership of the gallery to you,” she grinned at Jessica’s shocked expression. “This place means as much to you as it does to me, and I want to empower you to start making some of the decisions.”

   “I- I can’t do that,” she said, her voice breaking. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”

   “Of course you do,” Michonne chided her, pushing the stack of documents towards her. “Take these home and read them. Decide if you want to take the next step in your career. I believe in you, Jess, and I don’t want to lose you.”

   It took her two days to make a decision, and when she returned to work on Monday, she set the signed papers on Michonne’s desk without a word, turning her focus to the showing that was going to take place in two weeks. Since then, her man problems had taken a back seat to her job, and two days before the wedding, a new sign was installed above the storefront, announcing the name change to the Anthony Turner Gallery. 

 

   Their motley crew descended on the reception hall, the back wing of Moore House, a stately building that sat just to the right of Piedmont Park. It was more of a mansion than a house, and Jess followed Amy and Michonne into the upper level to help Andrea touch up her makeup and remove her veil for the rest of the evening. They had about twenty minutes before guests were due to arrive, and Andrea took her by the hand, asking her if she was all right.

   “Is Negan bothering you?” she asked as Jess shook her head. “I saw him trying to talk to you last night.”

   “Everything’s fine,” she assured her as her face cleared. “I’m having a ball, and the service was amazing. I can’t believe you’re really married.”

   “Right?” Andrea laughed, hugging her. “I finally feel like my life is beginning, you know? There’s more to life than work, I see that now.”

   Jess understood. There was more to her own life at one point, but she and Andrea seemed to have switched places, and she nodded along, bracing herself for a full-court press by Negan at some point during the reception. When they entered the party room, she headed straight for the bar, which was in a separate adjacent room, asking the bartender for a rum and Coke to soothe her nerves. The guys were all hanging out in there, and Jeff held up a shot in salute with her as Negan looked on impassively.

   Beating a hasty retreat, she plucked a glass of wine off of the table to bring to Andrea, who stood by the door with Phillip and Amy so that they could start to greet the guests.

 

 

 

  
   Rick hated wearing suits. They always felt odd to him, like he was dressed for a part that he didn’t know how to play. Thank God he never had to dust his good black one off that often, but as he drove downtown with Cat, he moved his shoulders back and forth until she reached out and massaged his arm with a chuckle. 

   “Thanks for coming with me. I know this isn’t your kind of scene.”

   “I’m good,” he said, slamming on the brakes as the car in front of him came to a screeching halt. When Cat had asked him to attend Amy’s sister’s wedding with her, he’d initially been taken aback. They hadn’t been dating long, and he’d always assumed that you didn’t attend big events like that with anyone that you were seeing casually. Still, it’s not like he had anything else to do, so he agreed, and her face lit up before she kissed him. 

   He liked Cat. She was energetic and generally a happy person, and he enjoyed spending time with her. There weren’t the sparks of nerves or flat-out terror like he felt with Lori or Jessica, but maybe that was okay. Maybe not every relationship came equipped with intense feelings. Some were probably just going to be easy and uncomplicated. She was cute, with a curvy figure and pretty brown eyes, and her hair was a nice reddish-brown. And she was short, always raising up on her tiptoes to kiss him with a glint in her eyes.

   The sex had been awkward the first time, that uncertainty of what someone you’ve never slept with likes or enjoys, but she let him set a slower pace, waiting a few weeks until they actually spent the night together. Again, it was good. Cat was a more than willing participant, taking the initiative as much as he did, and he had no complaints.

   So why did he still think about Jessica?

   Because his son told him the day before that she wasn’t seeing that Negan guy anymore. 

   He’d pulled out his suit, and got the iron set up to get the creases out of his shirt when Carl came rolling in from his Friday lunch with her, carrying a to-go box and dropping it on the table.

   “Where are you going? Did someone die?”

   “No,” Rick snorted, laying the shirt on the ironing board and starting with the collar, moving the hot metal over the cotton material. “I’m going with Cat to a wedding tomorrow night.”

   “Oh.”

   It was muted enough that he looked up to see Carl watching him unhappily, and he set the iron aside, placing his hands on his hips.

   “What’s wrong? I thought you liked her.”

   “She’s nice,” he conceded with a shrug, going to the fridge and taking out a bottle of water. 

   “But?”

   “But nothing,” Carl said, refusing to look at him. “I just…thought going to a wedding with someone was a big deal.”

   “Carl, she’s a nice girl and we’ve been dating for over a month. I’m not planning on asking her to marry me, we’re just going to her roommate’s sister’s wedding.”

   He mumbled something under his breath, and Rick strode over, planting himself in front of his son.

   “Excuse me?”

   “Nothing.”

   “Spit it out, son.”

   “I never thought that you’d ask her to marry you,” he glared defiantly at Rick, standing up to his full height. “I mean, you loved Jess and you never asked _her_.”

   “Jessica and I-“

   “You screwed it up, Dad,” he snapped, throwing his hand in the air. “You hurt her and you never tried to make it right. Why?”

   “Because she’s with someone else,” he barked, a build-up of anger that was always just hovering below the surface. “Do you want me to sit around and pine for something that’s never going to happen? She moved on and now I’m trying to do the same.”

   “Are you really that dumb?”

   “ _What_ did you just say to me?” he grabbed Carl’s arm as he tried to flee the kitchen, turning him around forcefully as his son refused to budge. “You have no right speaking to me like that.”

   “She broke up with him, like over a month ago.”

   “Why didn’t you tell me?” It was like someone had pulled the rug out from under him, leaving him scrambling for firmer footing. She’d been single all this time?

   “Because I promised her I wouldn’t,” Carl’s voice was steady, though his eyes were accusing. “She told me that day she came to see me in the hospital. She also told me that she never stopped loving you.”

   Rick had no idea what to say, and Carl knew it, extracting his arm as he carried the water towards the steps. “Why are you telling me now, if you promised her that you wouldn’t?”

   “I just thought it was time for you to know,” he said over his shoulder as he walked upstairs. “It’s up to you what you do with the information.”

   It left him sleepless as he went over that day in the cafeteria, how she saw Cat watching him, and she encouraged him to ask her out. Feeling like he failed another test to prove to her how much he loved her, Rick stared at the wall until dawn, finally getting out of bed and puttering around the house, trying to ease his troubled mind. 

   Eventually, he got ready, shaving his beard and slicking back his hair into something resembling a hairstyle, and with his mind on auto-pilot, he drove to pick up Cat, letting her put the address into his phone for the reception. She came out in heels and a patterned dress, with her hair down and loose and a big smile, greeting him with a kiss before frowning.

   “What’s wrong?”

   “Huh?” he blinked, pasting a smile on his face. “Oh, nothing. Just zoning out, I guess.”

   “Oh. Are you ready, then?”

   They pulled into the reception venue as Cat tucked the invitation into her purse, following the caravan of cars that crept up towards the large house, parking about as far away as humanly possible thanks to the fact that he’d made two wrong turns since he wasn’t paying attention.

   Rick came around the rear of the car, helping Cat out of the seat and they held hands as they joined the other guests, congregating in the large atrium near a sign that announced the Blake-Harrison wedding. The inside of the house was damn near cavernous, and he wondered what the bride and groom did for a living, breaking out of his thoughts when the line started to move. Curious to see the couple, he tried to see around the guy in front of him as Cat reapplied her lipstick, but it was impossible to get a glimpse.

   When they reached the reception line, he stopped in shock as he locked eyes with one Andrea Harrison, who hugged Cat before catching Rick’s eye, her mouth dropping open.

   “Rick,” she said in a shaky voice as he willed his body to move. The groom was looking pleasantly confused until Andrea’s eyes shifted back and forth between him and Cat, who’d now caught on that something was definitely wrong. It was as if his brain had been dipped in ice-cold water, and he forced a grimace to surface on his face, giving her an awkward hug. 

   “Congratulations,” he managed to say, stepping back as Andrea’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I had no idea that this was your wedding.”

   “I’m Phillip,” the groom introduced himself, shaking his hand as Rick tried not to squirm. “Thanks for coming.”

   He didn’t have to look around to know that his night was doomed. He could almost sense her in the room, and he pleaded silently for Andrea not to say anything. Cat still didn’t know that Jessica had ever been anything more than a friend to him, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly, disappointed. 

   “Have a good time,” was all she said, and she turned to shake hands with the couple behind them. 

   “Come on,” Cat urged him, taking his hand and then wincing since it was clammy, letting go. “I want to say ‘hi’ to Amy.”

   Like he was walking to death row, he trailed behind her, an impending horror settling on him as he saw that Amy was standing with Jessica.   


 

 

   Jess was huddled at the bar, sucking down a third rum and Coke, and they hadn’t even eaten yet, her hands clenched so tightly around the plastic cup that it nearly split in two. 

   “Is there anyone alive having a shittier run of luck than you?”

   “Huh?”

   Turning her head slightly, she saw Negan perched next to her with a goofy grin, and she shut her eyes, laughing in spite of herself. 

   “I mean, _two_ asshole exes at the same goddamned wedding? You are on _fire_ , Jess.”

   “What are the odds, right?” she sipped on her drink as he sighed. “How are you, Negan?”

   “Happy that you’re willing to exchange pleasantries with me,” he admitted, signaling the bartender for another drink. “Seriously, I’m hanging in there. How are you?”

   “Pretty good,” she lied, though it wasn’t a total whopper. “Michonne made me part-owner of the gallery.”

   “Wow,” he whistled, seeming genuinely impressed. “That’s fucking awesome. Congratulations.”

   “How the spa?”

   “Coming along,” Negan threw a twenty in the tip jar. “I brought my old buddy in to help with the caseload. And I’ve been going to therapy for the past month.”

   He picked up his drink, taking a sip as Jess floundered for something to say, but he didn’t give her a chance. 

   “I just want you to know that, because it’s important to me to earn your respect again. I’m not doing it just because I want to win you back. I’m doing it because it took losing you to make me realize how destructive I was being, and at the very least, I want to have you in my life, if not as a partner, then as a friend. I hope I can have that someday, if you’re willing.”

   He left her standing there by herself, rejoining the crowd that was now taking their seats for dinner, and with a heavy heart, she snuck through the crowd, taking the chair between Michonne and Jeff, acutely aware that Rick was sitting two tables away with his girlfriend. 

   Negan’s short declaration made her feel a pang of sadness because she sincerely wanted him to be happy, just like she wanted Rick to be happy. They’d only dated for a few months, and a part of her hoped that he was telling the truth, because she wanted to maintain a friendship with him. But he wasn’t done, because he was handed a microphone for a speech, and Jess started to get an impending sense of anxiety as his eyes kept drifting towards her.

   “So, it’s time for the best man’s toast,” he announced, giving the guests a toothy smile. “And boy, do I feel powerful right now. I mean, I’ve known Phillip for so many years, I could just regale you lovely people with some serious horror stories.”

   The crowd laughed as Blake shot him a warning look, and Negan winked at him in an exaggerated gesture.

   “Seriously, though, I’ve had the privilege of being this guy’s friend for a long time, and I can honestly tell you that I’ve never seen him this happy. In Andrea, he’s found a soulmate, and that makes him one of the lucky few. In fact, we should all be as lucky as Phillip, who recognized true love when he saw it,” Negan’s eyes shifted to Jess, who looked away briefly before turning back. “If we did, how wonderful would the world be? I’m reminded of a quote I read once, and it went like this: ‘Having perfected our disguise, we spend our lives searching for someone we don’t fool.’ And that’s the truth of it, am I right?” he looked at the nearest table, seeing a few heads nodding in agreement. 

   Scanning the room, Jess locked eyes with Rick, zoning out until she heard the clink of glasses and some applause, turning her head to see Negan watching her sadly.

   Swallowing hard, she made herself pay attention to Amy as she delivered a teary ode to her big sister, wishing them nothing but happiness, and after a few pleas for the newlyweds to kiss, dinner was served, a choice of salmon or chicken, and she made superficial talk with her seatmates, assuring Michonne at least ten times that she was okay, despite the fact that both Rick and Negan were there.

   By the time the music started, Jess was ready to let loose, dragging the other girls onto the floor to let out her pent-up energy, alternating dances with drinks until her brain finally declared a cease-fire, erasing both men from her thoughts. She ended up having a lot of fun, narrowly avoiding the bouquet toss and ducking back into the bar for a few shots. 

   Sometime after the cake cutting, Rick and his date left, and she felt about fifty percent of the weight that she’d been carrying evaporate, leaving her much lighter, even though Negan was always huddling along the sidelines, waiting for a chance to talk to her again. Conveniently, she’d head for the bathroom every time a slow song came on, avoiding that particular discomfort, when he finally cornered her and the rest of the wedding party as Andrea and Phillip prepared to depart for their honeymoon.

   He came over carrying a tray like a waiter, handing each of them a glass of champagne, setting the empty tray on the nearest table.

   “I thought we should have one more toast to the newlyweds,” he proposed, holding up his glass as everyone else followed suit. “To Phillip and Andrea, may you long have happiness and good tidings.”

   They all cheered in agreement, clinking their glasses together, draining them as they saw the couple off, leaving just a handful of revelers. Jess stood in the doorway a short time later, watching the limousine drive away, hoping that her friend-

   That was the last thing that she remembered.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaahhh! 
> 
> I can't wait for the next chapter!


	20. Chapter 20

_“…I love you, Jessica. You belong with me…”_

_She couldn’t place the voice, distorted and tinny, but she was euphoric, coasting on a wave of love and desire, her limbs lifting higher and higher as she rose in pure ecstasy, all by herself in a bubble._

_“Yes…” she sighed, not to anyone_ in _particular, just sending the small word out into the cosmos. Yes. Yes to everything._

 

   Nausea was what woke her. A sickening feeling in her stomach and a dull ache in her head. Her cheek was warm as she fought to open her eyes, akin to lifting up a car with one hand, and she felt her lashes fluttering, faced with a tan wall that she’d never seen before and the feel of someone breathing under her head.

   As she gradually came back down to Earth, she could sense bare skin, _her_ bare skin touching wiry hair and black chest fuzz just beyond her nose. What in the everloving fuck happened?

   Rolling onto her back, Jessica was acutely ill, both with the knowledge that she had no idea how she ended up in this bed, and overwhelmed with the urge to vomit, crawling to the edge of the bed as her muscles screamed in pain. A dull throbbing between her thighs made her moan because it could’ve only happened one way, along with the stickiness that made them clap together.

   Jess hit the floor on her hands and knees, barely making it into the bathroom, throwing up in the toilet as her entire body shook. The bowl was splattered with bright yellow bile, and she flushed it away, the mere sight of it making her gag even more. Her thoughts felt like they were on a three-second delay, every movement clumsy and fumbling.

   It took a supreme effort to get to her feet, and she grasped the porcelain sink, turning it on and splashing the foul odor out of her mouth, retching once more for good measure. One of the reasons that Jess had never done drugs was because her cousin, Ben, had overdosed when they were in high school. Graduating from pot to heroin, he became a shell of his former self, and even though her Aunt Karen had gotten him into rehab twice, it wasn’t enough. A bad batch on a Saturday night ended up sending him into cardiac arrest, and he died in his bed. By the time his mom found him, he was already gone, and it wrecked her family.

   So, other than an occasional hangover, she’d never imbibed in anything that could put her in such a state, but that _had_ to be the reason she couldn’t remember coming home with Negan.

    _Negan._

   The thought of him sent her reeling back towards the bedroom, and she hobbled over to where he was laying, shaking him roughly as he murmured in his sleep.

   “Go back to bed, Lucille,” he mumbled, making her vision blur, and without a second thought, she slapped him across the face, making him lurch upright, looking around wildly.

   “What the fuck?” he screeched, immediately grabbing the sides of his skull. “God, my fucking head.”

   Jess was impotent, unable to talk as he moaned in pain, finally turning bloodshot eyes to her in surprise.

   “What are you doing here?”

   “What did you do to me?” she rasped, backing up unsteadily as he tried to stand up, falling back on the bed.

   “I…don’t,” he said, making the same heaving sound that she had. “How did you get here? What the fuck happened?”

   Negan glanced down, seeming to just then realize that he was naked, and he tossed the sheet back over his lap as Jess bent down with a groan, trying not to throw up again and picking up her dress that was balled up on the floor. She had no clue where her bra or panties were, but it was humiliating enough to be so bare and exposed in front of him, all while not knowing how it happened.

   As he took an unsteady route to the bathroom with a sheet wrapped around him, Jess went through the open door into the living room, realizing that the reason she didn’t know where she woke up was because his apartment was completely different. There was new, functional furniture in the open room, a plush, brown sofa, and the chrome tables had been replaced with solid wood ones. All of the walls had been painted a cinnamon color, giving it a warmth that quite frankly, threw her off. It didn’t look like Negan’s style at all, not that it was important considering what was going on.

   There was a trail of clothes leading from the front door, which was still ajar, and she rifled through his tuxedo coat, pants, and shoes, finding her bra but nothing else. In the unsettling silence, the only sound was Negan vomiting in the exact same manner that she had, and Jessica slumped on the couch, wanting to die.

   Aside from the physical pain, there was the fact that she’d been drugged and had sex without informed consent, no matter that it was with Negan. It left her feeling violated and uneasy, and she started to cry until a hand brushed her shoulder, making her shudder.

   “I’ll drive you to the hospital,” he said, backing away from her. “We should get checked out if someone drugged us.”

   “You swear you didn’t do this?”

   Negan reeled back in a mixture of shock and anger, but she wasn’t dissuaded. She had to hear it from his mouth, a true answer.

   “I may be a lot of things, Jessica, but I’m not that much of a degenerate. I did not drug you, and I didn’t drug myself. The last thing I remember was walking outside after Phillip and Andrea left to see if you needed me to get you a ride,” he sat down on the reclining chair, his voice cracked and raw. “I really can’t recall anything after that. The only thing I’m sure of is that you’re hurt, and I’d never want that.”

   “It had to be the champagne,” she muttered, ignoring the bulk of what he said. “Did you see the bartender pour it?”

   “There were about two dozen of them on the bar, already poured. I just grabbed a few and brought them out.”

   “Oh, God,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. Was everyone else sick, too? “Where’s my purse?”

   “I don’t know,” Negan stood up, moving slowly around the apartment, searching for it and finding it behind the counter of the kitchen. He carried it back, handing it over, and Jess unzipped the small clutch, extracting her phone and finding it dead, the battery completely drained. “We should go to the hospital,” he reiterated, looking around for his keys, but not finding his own phone. “We can get our blood tested and find out what we were dosed with.”

   “Just take me home,” she said, balling up her bra in her hands, only wanting to get out of his house and forget any of this ever happened. “It doesn’t matter at this point who did it. The damage is done. But we need to call the reception hall and tell them. If it was one of their employees, they’re a danger, and I want to try to get ahold of Andrea to find out if anyone else was sick.”

   “Are you sure? We probably should file a police report.”

   “You can if you want to,” Jess stood up, fighting off a wave of dizziness. “I just want to go home.”

   “Jess…”

   “Just take me home, Negan, or I can call for a ride,” her voice broke as he reached out to touch her, making her skitter back, and fighting a sigh, he nodded his head, his eyes closing as he touched his temple. “Are you all right to drive?”

   “Never fucking better,” he mumbled, waving his arm towards the still open door and kicking his belongings out of the way as she walked barefoot out the door and down the hall. She found her shoes outside on the asphalt, and without stopping Jess walked past them towards Negan’s garage, waiting for him to open it up. The engine started up on its own, and she made for the passenger’s side, climbing in and leaning her head back as she started to second guess her decision. Maybe she was stupid for not going and getting checked out, but she honestly didn’t want to have to tell a complete stranger what happened. Denial and shame were snaking their way through her system, and she decided that she just wanted to forget everything about this nightmare.

   Negan slid in next to her, breathing loudly as he cleared his throat, and Jess kept her eyes shut until she felt like she was going to be sick again, staring out the window while he drove the familiar route to her house. When he pulled up behind her car, she reached for the door handle, stopping only when Negan took her left hand carefully, closing his around it.

   “I’m so sorry, for everything, Jess. But was it really so terrible to wake up in my arms again?” he asked quietly, gazing into her eyes.

   “Negan, I can’t think right now,” she said, freeing herself. “I need to go, because I think I'm going to be sick again.”

   “I’ll call the reception hall,” he said forlornly as she got out. “Just get some rest, and if you change your mind about going to get checked, call the office. I’ll be down there until I can find my phone.”

   “Thanks.”

   Limping towards the door, she came to an abrupt stop as chills suddenly ran down her spine, but she made herself continue on since she could hear his motor idling behind her, stepping on several rocks in her driveway as she reached the door. Jess was starting to get sweaty, a burning sensation in her chest as she pressed the buzzer for her apartment, praying to God that Paul was there.

   He let her in almost immediately, and she walked in without looking back, moving as quickly as she could to her door, throwing herself into Jesus’s arms, crying hysterically.

   “Are you all right? Michonne's been calling every twenty minutes trying to reach you.”

   “I need you to drive me somewhere,” she stuttered, shaking uncontrollably.

 

 

  
   Rick nursed a cup of coffee as he sat on his couch, lost in thought. The night before had been a nightmare, akin to walking into high school completely nude. Seeing Jessica at the wedding was a shock, one that he wasn’t prepared for, and he floundered when faced with actually talking to her.

   Cat, oblivious to their history, had dragged him over to see Amy, and of course, Jess was in that group, her face blanching when she caught sight of him, though she recovered almost immediately. Michonne’s expression had all the signs of impending doom, and she put a protective arm around her friend’s waist, eyeing Cat suspiciously before throwing Rick an incredulous look.

   Amy squealed happily, hugging Cat and giving Rick a peck on the cheek, prompting Jessica to excuse herself, walking towards the bar. And to make his night even worse, he saw that Negan was there, too, and the two stared daggers at each other before Jessica’s most recent former boyfriend broke out into a triumphant smile, strolling casually towards that same bar.

   “Rick?”

   Turning his head around, he saw that Cat was looking between him and the other room, finally dawning on her that something was going on.

   “Sorry,” he said, smiling as he tried to hide his anger at how he handled just about everything in his life up to this point. “Should we find our seats?”

   Michonne snorted discreetly, leading Amy over to check on Andrea and her new husband, and Rick guided Cat around the tables, searching for their place cards.

   “Rick, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird since you came to get me, and now you’re even worse.”

   “I’m fine,” he said automatically, pulling out her chair and taking the seat to the right, groaning internally at the proximity to the bride and groom’s table. Cat fidgeted in her seat, and he knew her well enough to know that it wasn’t enough of an answer. “I just didn’t know that this was Andrea Harrison’s wedding.”

   “So?”

   “So, she used to date Shane.”

   “Shane, the guy that’s now with your ex-wife?”

   “Yeah,” he fiddled with his fork, inadvertently clanging it against the empty water glass and avoiding her gaze. “The same Shane that broke her heart and moved in on my ex.”

   “Oh. I’m sorry, Rick,” she placed her hand on his forearm, forcing him to acknowledge her. “If I would’ve known, we could’ve skipped this.”

    “Really, I’ll deal with it. Actually, I’m glad that she moved on and found someone else. She was too good for him.”

   Cat leaned over, bestowing him with a kiss to the cheek, and he turned his self-loathing off until everyone else took their seats, his eyes immediately drawn to Jess as she sat down, scanning the crowd. For a brief moment, he was sure she was looking for him, and his heart thumped unevenly until Negan started to speak.

   Nearly twenty years of dealing with the public at large kicked in, both good and bad, and Rick’s Spidey sense was tingling, warning him that his guy was bad news. Smarmy, cocky, and cold. That’s what his impression of him was, and as he turned his eyes towards Jessica, they locked in on each other, and no one else existed anymore. Looking into her eyes, even from a distance was everything to him, and he swore that he saw the girl he fell in love with in there, waiting. He just had to nut up and take her back.

   When they broke apart, he observed Negan’s expression, anger masking as sadness, and he clenched his hand into a fist, imagining smashing it through his face and out the other side. It put a smile on his lips, and he was able to get through dinner, chatting with Cat, who was definitely subdued, stealing glances at the wedding table.

   The music started up, and she excused herself, huddling with Amy in the corner as he asked the waiter for a small glass of wine, figuring that it wasn’t enough to impair him for the drive home. He shouldn’t have bothered, because when Cat came back, she claimed that she wasn’t feeling well, and asked him to drive her home, and he never even got to drink it.

   Rick was smart enough to know that something was upsetting her, probably him, but he kept mum on the way back to her apartment, not expecting to be invited up, and not getting more than a subdued good-bye before she stepped out of the car, vaguely telling him that she’d talk to him tomorrow.

   Carl was gone when he got home, much earlier than he’d planned, finding a note from him on the door that he was going to spend the night with his buddy, Ron. He shucked the suit and got into his pajamas, laying on his couch as he waffled about doing a background check on Negan. Something was sticking in his craw about the other man, something intangible. Was it about Lucille, or something else? He hadn’t forgotten Negan’s odd behavior when he thought that Jess was hidden somewhere in his house, and it wasn’t a mistake when he spoke about his wife.

   He ended up falling asleep on the couch, waking up in the middle of the night with cold toes and a crick in his neck, and he waddled towards the bedroom, falling face down on the mattress, his last thought that he had to shit or get off the pot. It wasn’t fair to Cat and most importantly, _selfishly_ , it wasn’t fair to him.

   An insistent pounding roused him from his early morning stupor, and he set the coffee down before peering through the peephole, struggling to unlatch the door. Jessica was standing on his porch still wearing her bridesmaid’s dress, with a long leather coat wrapped around her shoulders and a strange man standing next to her. She looked terrible.

   In fact, the only time he’d ever seen her look worse was when she had pneumonia two years earlier and ended up in the hospital.

   “Jess, what-“

   She burst into tears as the young guy with long hair and a neatly trimmed beard helped her inside, moving past him towards the couch. This was bad, his instinct told him. This was very, very bad.

   Kneeling in front of her, he waited for her to speak, knowing that whatever she said, it was going to change everything, and he wasn’t wrong.

   “I was drugged last night,” she said through gasping breaths, and his heart dropped to his stomach. “I was drugged, and I think that Negan was the one that did it.”

   Rick was going to kill him if it was the last thing he ever did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a while to get this out. Work is kicking my ass, since we acquired a few new buildings, and I'm worn the F out.


	21. Chapter 21

   As soon as Negan got back home, he went straight to the couch, kneeling down and fishing his phone out where he’d intentionally kicked it the night before. He plugged it in and turned it on, finding ten missed calls from Phillip and two voice messages. Pressing play, he kept it on speaker mode as he sat down on the ugly fucking couch, listening to his oldest friend’s messages.

_“Negan, we just got on the plane to Aruba and I received a call from Jane Gerber. She was at the wedding and said that her husband got sick right after leaving. It’s the third one I’ve gotten and I think something was wrong with the food or drinks. Send me a text and let me know that you got home all right.”_

 

_“I’m getting really worried, pal. We just landed, and no one can get a hold of you or Jess. Five people total are at the hospital. Someone put drugs in the food or drinks, and I’m freaking out.”_

 

   He called Phillip back, startling slightly when he answered on the first ring.

   “Negan? Are you all right?”

   “I will be,” he said, leaning back as he rubbed his temple. “Jess and I were both given something. We ended up back at my apartment, thank God, instead of in the morgue.”

   “Andrea and I are going to book a flight back,” he said, sounding relieved.

   “We’re both okay, Phil,” he assured him. “I tried to take her to the hospital, but she just wanted to go home. What the fuck happened, man?”

   “The doctors that treated Bill Gerber and a few others took blood tests and they think someone slipped GHB into some of the drinks.”

   “Well, that explains it. Neither one of us could remember leaving the reception. Is everyone else gonna be okay?”

   “They are,” Blake said, breathing unsteadily. “Other than a wicked hangover and feeling like crap, they’re going to be fine.”

   “I’m fucking sorry, man,” Negan sighed. “But try to enjoy your honeymoon. There’s nothing that your coming home is going to fix. Did someone notify the reception hall, though?”

   “We called last night, but the plates and glasses had already been cleaned, so they can’t test them or try to get fingerprints.”

   It took another few minutes to convince him not to trash his honeymoon, and when they hung up, Negan set the phone aside, laying on his back. He felt…conflicted about what took place, and it wasn’t because other people got sick. It was their own fucking fault for drinking champagne that had been left unattended. What was bothering him was the fact that he slept with Jess, even though she’d been drugged.

   The bartender had gone to the kitchen with his tip jar when Negan went in to grab the drinks, pouring a bit of the GHB into a glass before drizzling some into a few other glasses to throw off superstition, tucking the vial back into his pocket before taking one of the tainted flutes and placing it on the tray. It was the end of the night, and he assumed the rest of the glasses would’ve been tossed since the party was over.

   It took less than ten minutes for the drug to take effect, and when he found Jess outside, the Uber drivers that Andrea and Philip ordered ahead of time had already pulled in. She was dazed, and he carefully led her towards the nearest car, setting her inside and giving the driver his address, feigning drunkenness in case he needed an alibi.

   His only intention was to have her stay the night at his place, and when they got to the factory, a switch flipped in her somehow. Instead of just passing out, Jess started groping him and kissing his neck, sucking the skin under his jaw, and he threw an extra twenty at the driver, helping her out unsteadily.

   “Do ya need help?” the guy asked, rolling down his window.

   “Just need some sleep,” he slurred, holding her at bay as he waved the guy away. The SUV turned around and drove off, and when he opened the door, she had taken off her shoes, moving in circles as she hummed to herself. “Jess, baby,” he called, getting no reaction, and while she was otherwise occupied, he poured a couple drops of the drug into his mouth. It wasn’t going to be enough to incapacitate him, but there would be a trace of it in his system if he needed to prove that he, too, was drugged.

   That shit was salty, and he smacked his lips together, propping the door open so that he could steer her up to his house. Jess was in an altered state, and she latched onto him, wrapping her arms around his neck, grinding her hips against his.

   “Jess,” he tried again, removing her arms and taking her hand. “Come upstairs. We need to lay down.”

   A quiet buzzing began as he herded her up to the top floor, and by the time they got into his apartment, his head was fuzzy and there was a tunneling of his vision, a need to strip off his confining clothes, tossing them as he pushed Jess towards the bed, laying on his back to stop the spinning. This was a fucking mistake.

   Until he felt fingers on his shins, making their way slowly up his thighs and sliding across his chest, her soft body laying on top of him. She was naked, and he hadn’t even noticed.

   He forgot. He plain fucking forgot that she wasn’t operating at full capacity when she kissed him. It sent a wave of arousal straight through him, tentacles of joy in his heart as he lay there passively, soaking it up like a sponge.

   “Wait,” he finally managed to say, dodging her lips, even as the warmth of her thighs around his waist made his hips buck on their own. “This isn’t right.” He couldn’t remember why, but he was sure that something wasn’t kosher.

   All she did was let out a deep-throated moan, and he rolled her over, sliding inside her like he was born to do it, enthralled with her eyes, her lips, her creamy skin. He loved this girl like nothing else, and Negan pumped himself slowly between her thighs, every cell in his body producing fireworks of heat.

   “I love you,” he murmured, “I love you so fucking much. You belong with me, Jessica.”

   “Yes,” she breathed, her hot breath kissing his cheek.

   He came in a blaze of colors, covering her with his body and his cloudy brain screaming at him that something was wrong, even as she babbled about rainbows and the smell of light.

 

   Negan sat up, trying to rationalize the act, even as he felt the ghost of Lucille surrounding him while he picked up his clothes and straightened up the living room, carrying his phone with him in case Jess called.

    _I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just wanted to show her that I could be there for her. I could protect her._

   The bed still smelled of perfume, the bathroom of sick, so he cleaned both with a pounding head, thankful that he’d set the call forwarding from the office before the reception, crawling back in and settling on his side to nap. She would be okay, he knew, just from watching her sleep through the night once the drug worked its way out of his system. Holding her felt right. Her head on his chest was how it was supposed to be, and after a few days of space, he was going to ask her to meet him for lunch, to try to rekindle what was still there.

   Recollections of Lucille trapped him while he slept, memories of another man soiling her, against her will. The fear in her face when he raged about the violation of his wife, his sweet Lucille. No one had the right to touch her, and in his subconscious he relived her fleeing to another room, locking the door behind her.

    _‘Honey, I’m sorry,’_ he tapped on the door, trying to get her to come out and talk to him. _‘Please forgive me.’_

  _‘Stay away from me, Negan, I mean it.’_

_‘Lucille, please.’_

    _‘It’s over,’_ she said through the door, cutting his heart into a million pieces. _‘I can’t do this with you anymore.’_

   But when the door opened, he backed away, repulsed and afraid. It wasn’t his wife standing there. It was some perverted version of her, with bulging eyes and a pus-filled tongue, the death pallor making her translucent, and he whispered an apology just as she lunged for him, waking up in a cold sweat.

   He had to make it right.

 

 

   The examination table was cold, the paper crinkling under her butt, and Jess shifted uncomfortably as the nurse stuck the needle in her arm to draw a blood sample, and she stared at the door as the metal pierced the skin, listening to the muted sounds outside the emergency room. Hospital personnel were discussing treatments, someone coughed, and Rick’s new partner paced back and forth, clearly visible in the crack of the door.

   Her nurse, Mary, had given her some painkillers for her head, though there was really nothing else they could do for the after effects of her drugging.

   “You’ve got good veins,” she said, undoing the plastic band around her arm and removing her gloves. “Sometimes I have to do more than one stick.”

   Jess nodded, putting the coat back on that Jesus had given her, feeling oddly exposed since she was still in her dress from last night, and Mary went over to the computer, typing a few things in before coming to stand in front of her.

   “Are you sure you don’t want me to do the rape kit?” she asked carefully, giving Jess a sympathetic smile.

   “No, there’s no need. I know who I was with,” she replied without emotion, still numb from everything that had happened.

   “You do have recourse, Jessica.”

   “I don’t see the point. I have no proof that he’s the one that did it to me…with the drugs.”

   “Well, I can have the counselor come and speak with you. What you went through is hard, and it’ll take some time to process. Maybe give it a little while, and if you change your mind, you still have options.”

   “Thanks,” she managed a smile, watching as the young woman carried the tube out into the hall and Officer Daryl Dixon knocked on the door frame before peeking his head in.

   “Hey,” he said, avoiding her gaze in case she wasn’t decent, and she waved him in, studying him as he stepped towards her with a notepad and a pen. “Ya ready?”

   “Yes.”

   When Rick had told her that he had a new partner, she’d damn near forgotten about Shane. Obviously, there was no way the two could still work together now that he was fucking Lori, but this guy seemed like Rick’s complete opposite in every way. He didn’t even look like a cop, with his long hair that covered most of his vision and beat up boots.

   Dressed in ratty jeans and a denim button-down shirt, if she saw him on the street, she’d assume he was the leader of a motorcycle gang or something.

   But he was quiet and respectful, if not rough around the edges, and at least it wouldn’t be as uncomfortable as telling Rick what she could recall.

   “I know ya ain’t comfortable talkin’ to a total stranger about what ya went through, but I’m here to see if I can help. Rick mentioned that your ex-boyfriend might’a done this?”

   “I think so.”

   “Okay,” he wrote a few things down, resting the notebook on the tray. “Did ya see him slip it into your drink?”

   “No, I didn’t. It was just something he said after he drove me home.”

   Daryl looked up, cocking his head to the side like a dog, and she wrapped the jacket around her waist, crossing her arms.

   “I woke up in his bed,” she told him, feeling his chest moving up and down under her cheek, rubbing it absently, “and he had his arm around my back since I was laying on him. When I realized where I was after puking my guts out in the bathroom, I woke him up, but he seemed like he had no idea how I got there or what happened.”

   “And what did he say that makes ya doubt that he’s a victim like you are?”

   He didn’t make it sound like an accusation, but she shot him a look, wondering if he didn’t believe her. “When I went to get out of the car, he stopped me and asked me if it was really so terrible waking up in his arms again.”

   Daryl’s eyes narrowed, at least from what she could see through his bangs, and she noticed that he gripped the pen a little tighter. “He could’ve just meant in general.”

   “I guess, but there was something about it that freaks me out. I’ve had concerns about him in the past, which is why we’re not together. He’s lied to me before.”

   “I can go and talk to him, get a statement a least,” Daryl offered, reaching out to help her down, but not actually touching her.

   “No, please. I just…is there any way you can check him out, though? Maybe just look into his background? I did an internet search and didn’t find anything, but…”

   Daryl nodded, backing up against the wall when Mary came in with her discharge papers, and Jess signed on the dotted line, folding them up and following behind the nurse with Rick’s partner behind her. Rest and move on. That was really all she could do. Daryl had talked to the owners of the house where the reception was held, and they were already aware of what had happened. Apparently, other people were dosed as well, but there was no way to trace how actually did it.

   Right now, she just wanted to get out of here and get a shower, all too aware of the fact that Negan had come inside her, leaving her feeling dirty and used, because she had no recollection of the sex. And if he really wasn’t drugged, well, she didn’t even want to have that floating around in her consciousness.

   Rick was in the waiting room in almost the exact same chair that she first saw him sitting on when she came to see him after Carl had his accident, and the sight of him made her heart hurt, along with the rest of her body. As soon as she’d told him what happened, he sprang into action, sending Jesus home to keep an eye on her apartment after a hasty introduction, spiriting her to his car and driving her to the hospital.

   One of the things that drew her to him in the early days was the quiet strength that Rick always possessed, despite the nervousness of their first few dates. That somewhat shy demeanor that he’d showed the day they met at the gallery was endearing, but underneath was a fucking warrior, and it made her feel safe, that he’d tear through Heaven and Earth to get what he wanted.

   That same steeliness was there now as Daryl passed by her to talk to him, the two men speaking in hushed tones as Jess hovered by the entrance, leaning tiredly against the wall. Rick shook Daryl’s hand before clapping him on the back, striding over towards her with purpose, though his eyes were soft.

   “Are you ready?”

   Jess nodded, letting him take her by the elbow to lead her to his car, depositing her in the seat like she was going to break at any moment. Watching him as he crossed around to the driver’s side, saying next to nothing as he drove them back to his house. She looked around briefly before deciding to just let him make the decisions, and he brought her back into the house, taking her into the bedroom and going into the adjacent bathroom, turning on the water.

   “Why don’t you get cleaned up, and I’ll get you something to wear?”

   “I can do this at home, Rick.”

   “You’re staying here for now,” he said, shutting the door and leaving her alone. Okay, then.

   She avoided looking at herself in the mirror, hanging the jacket on a hook and ripping the dress from her body, never wanting to wear another piece of green clothing again in her life. The shower was hot, and she stood under the spray for an indeterminate amount of time, feeling the rivulets slide down her torso, reaching blindly for the body was that was in the exact same spot that it always was, cleansing between her legs as she shivered.

   How did she move on from this? What were the steps that someone took to get control of their life back?

   Getting some sleep was the most that she could commit to at this point, and when she stepped into the bedroom, there was a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt laying on the bed, her favorite pair of his that she used to swipe all the time to lounge around in, a lump in her throat as she held them up, smelling fresh laundry detergent and Rick’s lingering scent, a woodsy smell that felt like home.

   The sound of Rick’s approach made her retreat to the bathroom, hanging up her towel, and when she came back out, he had pulled down the quilt, patting the bed as she crawled in without any resistance. Jess stared up at him, and he gave her a reassuring smile, covering her up and shutting the door soundlessly.

 

 

   Negan fucked with the wrong people, and Rick was going to make sure that he paid for it.

   When Jessica showed up on his doorstep, suffering the after-effects of a date rape drug and in tears, it woke a rage in his chest, a caveman desire to grab a club and beat Negan to death for hurting her, and his cop side took over, hustling her to the hospital and telling her friend Jesus to stay at her place and call him if Negan showed up there for any reason.

   He’d seen plenty of people after they were assaulted, and it always made him borderline ill, the way that they were violated without any way to fight back. The only silver lining on a completely horrible situation was that sometimes, they had no memory of it, no lingering images that haunted them, and he guessed that it was the same for Jess, though without a confession, they had a snowball's chance in Hell of pinning it on that fucker.

   While she was back getting checked, he headed for the cafeteria, zeroing in on Cat, who was working the register, and when she saw him, a faint smile passed over her face, fading almost immediately as she stuck a ‘Closed’ sign on her counter and stalking over towards one of the empty tables.

   “Hey,” he said, perching on the opposite side as her arms crossed in front of her.

   “What happened?”

   “Did you talk to Amy? Did she tell you about what happened last night at the reception after we left?”

   “Yeah,” her face relaxed, thinking that’s what he was coming to tell her, reaching for his hand, and he let her. “That’s insane, right? Thank God we already left.”

   “Right,” he agreed with a nod. “There were a few people that were brought in here, and Jessica was one of the people that were drugged.”

   “Your friend? The one that told you to ask me out?”

   “Here’s the thing,” Rick said, gently prying his hand free. “Jessica isn’t just my friend.”

   “You’re in love with her.”

   He blinked rapidly as a sad smile formed on Cat’s face, and she laughed, almost in disbelief.

   “I may be young, Rick, but I’m not a fool. Anyone could see it last night with the way you were staring at her.”

   “We dated for three years, and because I was a coward and an idiot, she broke up with me, about six months ago.”

   “Well, let’s not draw this out, then,” Cat stood up, wiping the corner of her eyes. “You’re a great guy, Rick, but I’m not interested in trying to win a guy that doesn’t want to move on. I hope that if you really care about her, you show her.”

   “I’m sorry, Cat, I really am. I never meant for things to end this way.”

   “They were always gonna end, though, weren’t they?” she asked as she passed by him, getting back behind the counter as Rick sat there for a few seconds, not feeling guilty as such, just regretful that a nice girl got caught up in his mess of a life. But as soon as he left the cafeteria, she was firmly in his past and his future was in the Emergency

   Room, having one of the worst experiences of her life, and he was damned sure that he was going to be there to help her through it.

   First things first, and that was to get her home and cleaned up. A healthy body could impact her mind, and after telling Daryl to keep him updated, he drove her to his house, ushering her into the shower and laying out her favorite sweatpants and shirt, wanting her to feel as comfortable as possible.

   While she slept, he whipped up some food, throwing together a stew and turning the crock pot on high so that she’d have something to coat her stomach when she woke up.

   A few hours later, she still hadn’t stirred, so he tiptoed in to check on her, going to the other side of the bed straightaway when he observed her thrashing around in the bed, obviously having a nightmare.

   “Jazz? Wake up, sweetheart,” Rick gently shook her, rearing back when her arm shot out and she panted awake, looking around in terror. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he soothed her, brushing the hair out of her face when she flopped back on the pillow, her face streaked with tears.

   “Rick-“ her voice was choked as she reached for him, and he slid against the headboard, wrapping his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest, the way she used to, and he kissed the top of her hair, resting his nose and lips on her head, feeling her relax against him.

   “I’m here, Jazz, and nothing else is gonna happen to you, I promise.”

   It may have been a foolish one to make, but he swore on his life that he was going to keep it, because this woman’s happiness was the only thing that mattered to him right now.

 


	22. Chapter 22

   Jessica made her way through the crowd of people that were streaming through the door, smiling at new faces and greeting some familiar ones.

   “Marjorie,” she said to an older client that she’d sold several sculptures to. “Thank you for coming.”

   “I wouldn’t miss this,” she trilled, squeezing Jessica’s elbows. “It’s all anyone is talking about.”

   “Well, don’t hesitate to find me if you have any questions. There are a lot of up and coming artists here,” she winked as Marjorie took a glass of champagne off of the tray that Aaron was carrying around. Jesus, thankfully, was directing some of the crowd to the back of the gallery, all smiles and looking adorable in his red shirt and leather pants.

   Ella Masters, the photographer from Charleston, stood nervously near a collection of her photos, watching helplessly as men and women stopped to observe, some of them moving on while others murmured to themselves. Jess caught her eye, giving her an encouraging smile and mouthing to her to breathe.

   The gallery was full on this Thursday night, a full day earlier than she’d planned for the showing to happen. But they’d had so much interest that she and Michonne decided to make it a two-day event, and they were reaping the rewards. Since opening the doors an hour ago, they’d already sold three paintings, two sculptures, and one of the portraits that Ella brought.

   It had been five days since the wedding and being able to throw herself into this venture had worked wonders on Jessica’s psyche. Time and distance were making it easier to compartmentalize everything that had been done to her, and she was determined that Negan wasn’t going to damage her any more than he already had.

   And the reason why came walking in, wearing his black suit, the one he used for funerals and weddings alike, making a warm buzzing begin in her ears as she watched him look around warily, spying her in the corner. With assured steps, he started towards her, stopping briefly to converse with Jesus as he passed by, shaking his hand and tilting his head as he looked her up and down, seeming pleased by what he saw.

   “Hey,” he said when he reached her, kissing her cheek in a chaste movement. “How are you feeling?”

   “I’m good,” she told him, handing him her untouched glass of champagne. Ever since Sunday morning, when she’d shown up on his porch completely distressed, he’d taken charge of everything. Seeing her to the hospital, arranging for Jesus to keep an eye on her when she wasn’t at work. If it had been anyone else that had just started overseeing her life, it would’ve felt overbearing and controlling, but with Rick, it was coming from a place of genuine care of her wellbeing.

   “This is crazy,” he observed, looking around at all of the carefully choreographed chaos. “You’ve got a hit on your hands, I think.”

   “I hope so. Thanks for coming,” she grinned as he sipped at the drink. “I know this isn’t really your scene.”

   “It’s important to you. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Rick looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. He’d never come to any of the other gallery showings before, but was always interested to hear her talk about her work. This was a new Rick, she thought, studying him as he looked around. The way his lips met perfectly. The perfect slope of his nose. His Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down when he swallowed. Even his hair, which had gotten longer than he’d kept it in recent memory, though Jess could remember what it felt like to run her fingers through it when he’d sprawl on the couch, resting his head on her lap.

   This event with Negan had only reawakened the longing she felt for this man, and his unbridled assertiveness when it came to her safety. Never had she felt more secure from the threat of what happened than when she woke up in his bed, terrified and shaking from the nightmares that had plagued her, only to find Rick there, and he didn’t hesitate when she reached for him, folding her onto his chest and kissing her head, promising her that she’d always be safe.

   Rick Grimes was a man of honor, a man of hidden passion, and a man that was currently stoking the flames of desire that were licking through her body, blissfully unaware of it as he gazed at a random painting on the wall.

   “Would you excuse me?” she asked, placing her hand to her chest as he blinked at her, confused at her sudden nervousness. “Duty calls.”

   He smiled, and Jess hightailed it towards Michonne, who was currently engaging in a heated discussion with an artist that she’d handpicked to occupy the front window.

   “Jorge, we negotiated this already,” Michonne said through clenched teeth, the sparkle in her eyes betraying the quiet simmering temper that Jess knew too well. “The house fee is twenty percent. You knew this when you agreed to show your work.”

   “I understand that,” the young man said, rolling his eyes. “But with all the interest I’m generating with my pieces, fifteen percent should be more than enough.”

   “Jorge,” Jessica said, giving him an air kiss on his cheek, “so nice to see you. How’s it going?”

   “I don’t know,” he said, verging on the dramatic. “Michonne is giving me a hard time, Jessica, and I’m so very close to just pulling my pieces.”

   “Jorge,” she turned on her pleading voice, “please. You know we need you. Your talent, along with Jesus over there, are what’s making this a huge success. Both of your sales are neck and neck, and we couldn’t be more grateful.”

   Competition. Jorge’s weak spot, and Michonne mouthed a ‘thank you’ behind his head as his body stiffened, his eyes roaming over to where Jesus was shaking the hand of a particularly rich client of theirs, nearly giddy with happiness.

   “How many has he sold?”

   “Boy, if Thomas Groben just bought a piece, I’m pretty sure he’s up to five, and that’s just tonight,” Jess tapped her index finger to her chin, deep in thought. “The wedge, the graffiti bridge, and the neon blue duck for sure. Combined with your three, I mean…wow. That’s why we need you to say, Jorge.”

   Michonne bit her lip as his eyes narrowed, seeing another two people step up to speak with the perpetually happy artist, and she knew he was going to stay. Not being the best-selling artist at a gallery show was tantamount to failure in his eyes, and he stalked off towards the food as Jess let out a deep breath of satisfaction.

   “God, remind me to never ask him to show again,” Michonne muttered, taking a good look at Jess. “What’s going on with you?”

   “ _Me?_ What? Nothing,” she fussed with the front of her dress, suddenly finding it much more interesting than Michonne’s pointed look.

   “Honey, I haven’t seen you that flustered in a long time,” she teased, throwing her head back in laughter. “Frankly, it’s awesome, and long-deserved.”

   “Michonne-“

   She took Jessica by the arm, leading her back to the office and shutting the door, resting her hip on the desk. Michonne was wearing a patterned dress and head scarf, and she couldn’t look more stunning if she tried, running her teeth over her ruby red bottom lip.

   “I see Rick is here. _Again_.”

   “He’s just keeping an eye on me after what happened.”

   “Jessica, you know goddamned well that he’s stone in love with you,” Michonne snorted, leaning back slightly. “And you still love him, don’t you?”

   “I never stopped loving him, I don’t think. But he’s dating someone else and I just got roofied, for fuck’s sake.”

   There was a knock at the door, and Jess opened it a bit, letting Aaron in, relieved that they were interrupted.

   “Hey, Gregory’s here, and he’s asking for Jess to walk him around and tell him about the various pieces,” he apologized.

   Fucking great. She thought he’d dropped off the face of the earth, but nope. Like any good cockroach, he skittered out from wherever he’d been hiding. Michonne rose to intercept, but she held up her hand.

   “I’ll go. Money is money, and if this fool wants to spend it, who am I to stand in the way?”

   “She’ll be out in a sec,” Michonne told Aaron, who slipped back out. “One last thing, Jess.”

   Jessica batted her eyelashes mockingly, her hand on the doorknob. “What?”

   “Do what makes you happy, honey,” Michonne took her by the shoulders, becoming serious. “If you love him, tell him. There’s nothing in the world that guy wouldn’t do for you, despite his earlier fuckups. You have one life, girl. Make it count.”

   It touched her unexpectedly, and she coughed around the lump in her throat, leaning into the powerful hug that was given to her. Taking a deep breath, Jess transformed her face into tolerant politeness, spying Gregory by the front door, holding hands with a woman that could best be described as…bird-faced.

    _Don’t think about Rick standing on the other side of the room. Do your job._

   “Gregory,” she extended her hand, shaking his as the woman looked her up and down. “So nice to see you. Thank you for coming.”

   “Jessica,” he wheezed, turning and giving his date a smirk. “This is my fiancee Alisa.”

   “Nice to meet you,” Jessica greeted her, getting a simpering smile in return. “Welcome to the Anthony Turner Gallery.”

   “Alisa and I were looking for some good art for our new house,” he informed her, holding out her hand and showing her Alisa’s diamond ring, and Jessica offered them a hearty congratulations. “I told Alisa here that you have some, uh, unorthodox pieces, and she thought that we should take a look. She has a wonderful eye for art.”

   “Of course,” she said, waving her arm to the right. “We can start on this side if you like. There are some emerging talents showing their latest works tonight.”

   Telling herself that his money was the only attractive thing about him, Jess walked him through the entire gallery, her eyes going to Rick only half the time, but he was fine. He’d wandered over to Ella’s display, watching the perpetually nervous new friend of hers as she explained her inspirations, and she saved Jesus’s section for last. Alisa excused herself to use the restroom, and Gregory looked her up and down, that oily smile making her insides recoil.

   “So, are there any pieces jumping out at you?” Jessica asked, fighting the urge to walk away when he sidled up to her, looking at the metal sculpture of two human-like figures entwined in an erotic embrace.

   “Alisa is very sweet, don’t you think?”

   “She is,” Jess agreed, stiffening when his finger grazed the outside of her thigh. “When are the two of you getting married?”

   “Oh, next spring, I believe. Her parents are very wealthy, much like I am. They’re going to want to have a big to-do, I’m sure. We’re a perfect match.”

   “Great,” she took a half-step to the right, catching Rick’s attention, and his eyes hardened as he sized Gregory up.

   “How about you, dear? Are you seeing anyone?”

   Paul was watching their exchange carefully since he was so close, no doubt ready to jump in if she needed assistance, but she turned to Gregory with a subdued look, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

   “Jesus is the only man in my life.”

   Jess didn’t know whether to laugh or not when his eyes widened, and Paul stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “I…Jesus?” he stuttered. “As in…?”

   “Jesus,” she confirmed, closing her eyes briefly as Paul let out some sort of strangled sound. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

   “Oh, well, that’s-” Gregory floundered, looking around and taking a hesitant step back. “I should find Alisa and see what’s she’s up to. My wallet’s probably going to take a hit if she found anything she liked.”

   “If you need any more help, just let me know,” Jess told him politely. “God bless you,” she called out, making his shoulders twitch as he hustled towards his poor fiancée.

   “What the hell was that about?” Jesus seemed bewildered as she started to wheeze with laughter. She told him quickly about her ill-fated meetup with Gregory several months before, and he shuddered in solidarity, giving Rick a commiserating look when he came over, fixing her with that cop stare that he sometimes had.

   “Was that guy bothering you?”

   “No more than usual,” she shook her head with a smile, giving him the quick and dirty version.

   “I can talk to him for you,” he offered, but she turned him down.

   “I doubt he’ll be bothering me again any time soon. So,” she rested on one foot, her heels aching. “See anything you want?”

   “Yes,” he said, giving her a serious look, and her mouth popped open at the inference, the first time in a long while that he was so direct. Jess could feel her cheeks getting warm, and he busted out a grin that only made her even more off-kilter, the room suddenly sweltering.

   “Should I leave?” Jesus teased, and she jerked to the right, her face taking on the full aura of red, and she walked away from the both of them when someone called her name, grateful that there was somewhere else she needed to be. When she glanced over once or twenty times, Rick and Jesus were still engaged in conversation.

   At ten o’clock, the last of the patrons left, and Jess collapsed on the chair, feeling drained. The first night went amazingly well, and they’d made over a dozen sales, making Michonne giddy with happiness.

   “Great job, everyone,” she called out, waving to the various artists. “I can’t wait to see what we come up with tomorrow night.”

   Jesus came walking over with his arm around Aaron’s waist, grinning like a naughty schoolboy, and he reached behind the counter for a set of car keys, tossing them into Aaron’s hand.

   “We’re heading to his apartment to celebrate,” his eyebrows wiggled in mischief as Aaron smirked. “Rick’s gonna follow you home to make sure you’re safe.”

   “Jesus-“

   “Goodnight,” he trilled, dragging his boyfriend towards the door, and Rick strolled over, holding out her shawl.

   “Go,” Michonne ordered, pulling her to her feet. “I’ll lock up.”

   “You don’t need to do this,” Jess said when they got to her car. “No one’s tried anything, and I haven’t heard from him.”

   Rick opened the door without a word, shutting it lightly once she was behind the wheel, and she sighed to herself because there was no way he was going to take ‘no’ for an answer. Unsurprisingly, he parked behind her, extracting her keys from her hand and unlocking her apartment door, doing a perfunctory sweep to make sure that everything was copasetic, and Jessica kicked off her heels.

   “Can I get a blanket?”

   “Huh?”

   “A blanket,” he repeated, removing his jacket. “For the couch.”

   “Rick, you don’t need to babysit me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

   “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

   “You can’t shadow me forever,” she opened the closet door and pulled out a fresh blanket and pillow, tossing it on the couch. “You have your own life to live.”

   It wasn’t the first time he’d been in her apartment in the past week, yet it still felt weird, and he stripped off his tie, giving her a determined look. “I made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it. Can I use your bathroom?”

   Knodding, she moved to the side as he passed by, bracing herself along the wall as she tried to get ahold of her emotions. She could do this. So what if she couldn’t take her mind off of this man? He had a girlfriend, so she was going to treat this as a platonic thing. He was a cop, and yeah, he still cared about her. That didn’t mean anything was going to happen.

 

   Two hours later, Jess rolled over in bed for the thirtieth time, staring at her closed bedroom door. She couldn’t sleep, knowing that he was just one wall away. It was too far and not far enough, and she silently begged her brain to back the fuck off and give her just a few minutes’ peace, a reprieve from the desire to touch him, to bury herself in his embrace the way she had for three years. The way she’d done a few days before.

   Maybe she should just get a bottle of water. Take a sleeping pill.

   Tiptoeing into the hall, she froze near the kitchen when Rick sat up, blinking rapidly, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. _Fuck_.

   Jess steadied herself by grasping the corner of the wall, and he rose up, coming towards her, sending her mind into a blank slate, just like she wanted, only now, it was too late.

   “Hey, what’s wrong?”

   She opened up her mouth to tell him she was fine, but nothing would come out, just a rush of air, and the realization dawned in his eyes, because he knew her so well. It changed everything about his gait, slowing it down as it took on a sinewy appearance, and she just about hit the floor. Rick’s hands were extended, and he was only wearing his boxer, a mouthwatering sight even in the dim light, resting them on either side of her head, leaving them just inches from each other.

   “Jazz…” his voice dropped at least two octaves as he drank in her face, his lips parting.

   Just before their mouths met, she found her voice, a lighting strike of courage, and Jess placed her palm against his pecs, her nails brushing the hair that grew there. “Rick, you have a girlfriend.” If she hadn’t been through what she had with Negan, knowing he screwed other women while claiming that he loved her, she didn’t know if she would’ve had the strength to speak up, but he bent down, hoisting her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, making her yelp.

   She shut her eyes as he carried down the hall, tossing her on the bed like a sack of potatoes, and he was kneeling over her before she could get her mind wrapped around what was happening. “Rick, what are you doing?”

   It came out like a wheeze, and he knelt over her, panting, his legs brushing hers, the only parts of their bodies touching. “Is that the only reason you’re hesitating, Jazz?”

   And here it was. Her future seemed to hinge on her answer, and she nodded once without even stopping to mull it over, the mere movement sending Rick into a frenzy, latching onto her neck, all lips and gently scratching teeth. “I ended it,” he said into her skin. “It’s always been you, Jessica.”

   Letting out a choked sob, she locked her legs around him, yanking on his hair so that she could kiss him, marveling at how one week could send her from the depths of despair to the heights of happiness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be getting some sexy times with Rick next chapter, so brace yourselves!
> 
> Also, I've never been one to ask for comments, but if you're enjoying the story, please let me know and leave a remark. There's nothing an author loves more than to know that people are clicking with something they wrote... :)


	23. Chapter 23

   It took three tries before the fucking key card would work, but when the light turned green, Jess pushed the door open, flicking on the light as Rick carried their bags into the hotel room, laying them on the bed. They had a king-sized mattress, a small couch, and a bathroom that looked like a spa, and she flopped down on the bed, turning her phone back on. She’d shut it off completely before they got on the plane, and when it pinged to life, she saw missed calls from Negan and one text, making her frown.

   “What’s wrong?”

   Jess opened the message, shaking her head as she read it. He was never going to give up.

 

 **I tried calling you a few times, and I was worried, so I contacted Michonne. She said you went out of town. I hope you’re okay, gorgeous.**  


**I’ve been really down and depressed, thinking about everything that happened, and I wanted to meet you for coffee so we can talk.**

   

   She held out the phone, showing Rick, whose face remained completely impassive as he read it, finally tossing it back onto the bed and unzipping her suitcase.

   “Do you want to talk to him?”

   “No. There’s nothing to say,” she shrugged. “I just wanted you to see it, to know that he tried contacting me.”

   “Why don’t you go in and freshen up while I unpack?” he kissed the top of her head, handing her the little flowered bag that had her toothbrush and toothpaste, and she headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Rick always had to take everything out of the suitcases whenever they went anywhere, or else he couldn’t relax, and she shook her head at her reflection, smiling despite the fact that Negan had once again inserted himself in her life.

   Frankly, she was surprised he waited a full week to try to get ahold of her, and her body shook automatically as her brain brought back the image of him holding her hand in the car, asking if it was so bad to wake up in his arms again.

   “Stop,” she told herself, brushing her teeth and combing her hair, pushing him out of her mind. There were other, more important things right in front of her, and she walked out into the hotel room, seeing that Rick was standing in front of the window, looking down on the strip, and she crept up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, kissing the back of his neck.

   “Are you tired, Jazz? We could rest for a while.”

   “I’m all for ending up in the bed,” she murmured into his neck, nibbling at the soft skin just under his hairline as she untucked his shirt, sliding her hands across his stomach, her own tickling when Rick’s abdominal muscles clenched under her touch. He arched back slightly, his breathing picking up, and Jess added her tongue to the sweep of her lips, the taste of his skin like the sweetest honey.

 

 

   Less than two days before, after the gallery showing on Thursday, they ended up in her bed, the emotions laid bare between them as she finally gave in to her fear and her hope. Rick was the one that she wanted, the one she truly loved, and as he hovered above her, his blue eyes burning a hole straight through her heart, he told her that he’d broken up with his girlfriend, Cat.

   “It’s always been you, Jess. I love you. I want you forever.”

   The admission broke the stranglehold that the fear had over her heart, and when they kissed, it set her free. No longer afraid of being alone, or set aside for someone else, all she wanted was to spend the rest of her life making up for lost time with him, and she reached between them, only to have him grasp her wrist and pull it away as Jess stared at him in confusion.

   “What’s wrong?”

   “Nothing,” he kissed her softly on the lips, easing his way down her neck to her chest, lifting up the shirt that she usually slept in and fondling her breasts, dragging his nose down her torso. “This just isn’t about me right now.”

   “Rick,” she moaned, “I want you. I _need_ you.”

   He wouldn’t be dissuaded, blocking her each time she reached for him, intent on getting between her legs, and when she looked down, the expression on his face made her weak with desire. Gone was the quiet, unassuming man that most people knew him as. Instead, there was a blazing intensity in his eyes, a sexy confidence that drew her in before his mouth ever even touched her, and when he finally did, closing his lips around her core, she jerked up, the sensation almost too much to bear. How did she get here and what changed so significantly?

   It wasn’t like their love life hadn’t been great while they were together before, but this, this complete domination by him as so arousing, so…unexpected that she lost herself with his head between her thighs, trapped by the intense stare that he emitted until she came so strongly that it left her sweating and bewildered.

   “Who… _are_ you?” she breathed when he settled himself on top of her again, planting soft kisses on her jaw. “And why won’t you let me reciprocate?”

   “Because after everything that happened, I don’t want to rush things,” Rick told her, easing the covers out from under her and rolling off to the side, pulling her towards him so that they were facing each other.

   “I’m okay,” she insisted, reaching for his hand.

   “We have time, Jazz. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

   It had the air of finality, and her eyebrows crinkled even as he grinned at her. “What do you want to say?”

   “I don’t know,” she hedged, still not quite believing what had happened, but she could feel the delicious thrumming between her legs and Rick’s body next to hers, even though her mind was racing in a million different directions. “You just…seem so much more…confident, I guess. Why is that?”

   “Well,” he appeared truly thoughtful and totally at ease, brushing her hair to the side, “I spent three years waiting for you to realize that you could do so much better than a guy that had one major relationship in his life that ended in divorce.”

   “Rick, I told you-“

   “Let me finish,” he pressed a finger to her lips, giving her a smirk. When he was sure she wasn’t going to interrupt, he cupped her cheek, the skin warming underneath his palm. “Anyway, as I was saying, I waited for you to drop me once you figured out that I was beneath your station. I mean, the woman I’d planned on spending the rest of my life with basically told me that I was a good father, but a shit partner. And I assumed that you’d think the same thing after spending time with me. It never really sunk in that when you said you loved me, you meant it. That you truly loved me without exception the way I did you.”

   It hurt her deeply, not just that he doubted her true feelings, but also that he thought so little of himself. How could he not see what she did?

   “I know,” he chuckled, correctly guessing what she was thinking, smoothing out the frown on her forehead. “But you’re _so_ young, so beautiful, and I couldn’t figure out what interest I held for you. Until I hurt you. I really saw it in your face. I _got_ it. I just must have a really delayed reaction time or something.”

   Jess moved over, laying her head on his chest, and he traced her spine absently, resting his chin against her. “So, what now?”

   “What do you mean?”

   “I mean, where do we go from here?” she looked up to see that he was staring at the ceiling, a white circle from the streetlight outside the only light in the room. “Are we dating again?”

   “Is that what you want?”

   “I’m asking what _you_ want.”

   “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said quietly, the steady thrumming of his heart in her ear making it almost too hard to hear him. “If it was up to me, I’d marry you tomorrow and forget the past several months ever happened.”

   “Okay.”

   She surprised herself by the answer, but in hindsight, it was all so clear to her. So simple. She loved Rick Grimes. She’d waited for him to propose for damn near two years, sure almost from the start of their relationship that he was the one for her, and it may be foolhardy, but if he was really proposing, she wasn’t going to wait any longer to start the life she wanted.

   When he was positive that she wasn’t fucking with him, he rolled her over, kissing her so sweetly that she nearly lost what little sanity she had left.

   The next morning, he left before she woke up, but she found a note on the counter that he had to get to work and that he’d see her at the showing. It was there that he cornered her in Michonne’s office, even as the showing was already underway, getting down on one knee and presenting her with a diamond ring.

   “Will you marry me?”

   “Get up,” she hauled him to his feet, hugging him as she started to cry, not sure if she actually told him ‘yes’ or not. When he put the ring on her finger, Jess swallowed down the lump in her throat, taken off guard when he suggested a wedding next summer.

   “What? No good?”

   “Let’s just elope,” she said as his head rocked back in surprise.

   “You don’t want a big wedding?”

   “No, I want a _marriage_. After what I just went through, I don’t have any desire to spend thousands of dollars on a party that I probably wouldn’t enjoy,” she said honestly. “Unless you wanted to.”

   Rick sat on the edge of Michonne’s desk, pulling her between his legs, and she linked her fingers behind his neck, searching his face for any signs of discomfort or regret, but he was completely nonchalant, and he tickled her side with his thumb. “I’ll do it whenever you want, sweetheart.” He was so honest, so open that she leaned forward and kissed him, lost in the moment until the door swung open, making her jump.

   “So, it finally happened,” Michonne grinned, looking almost as happy at the turn of events as they did. “You two actually got out of your own way and made up.”

   “We did,” Rick inclined his head over her shoulder, flashing a huge smile. Jess was content to stay there the rest of the night, but she reluctantly stepped away, returning to the main floor to meet and greet the patrons that had shown up for the second night of the showing.

   Jesus, of course, noticed the ring right away, hugging her fiercely as he admired the simple gold band and round cut diamond. Jess had no idea if he’d gotten it that day or had been holding onto it for a while, the latter making her just a touch sad, because if-

   Nope, she wasn’t going down that road. They were together now, and that was all that mattered.

   It made the rest of the evening fly by, and when the last customer and artist left, she headed back to the office, where Rick and Michonne were having a hushed conversation, the two of them looking up sharply like she’d interrupted a secret summit or something.

   “What?” crossing her arms, Jess propped herself up against the door, and Michonne rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

   “Don’t want a wedding, huh?”

   “So?”

   “Why are you getting so defensive?”

   “I’m not,” Jess said, taking a deep breath as Rick studied her. “I’m just not going to change my mind. I know what I want.”

   “Okay, then,” Michonne pressed the print button on her computer, reaching for the sheets that popped out and she handed them to Rick. “My wedding gift to you is on that itinerary.”

   “Huh?”

   “Rick mentioned that you didn’t want to wait, and I figured, why not Vegas? There’s flight information for tomorrow morning, a reservation at the Wynn, and a dinner on me.”

   Her mouth popped open as she scanned the papers, and sure enough, there were boarding passes for her and Rick, a hotel room reserved, and a certificate for two hundred dollars for a restaurant called The Barrymore.

   “Is tomorrow too soon?” there was a tiny hint of nervousness in his eyes like he was maybe pushing her a little too far too fast. While it was true that everything had happened quickly, it wasn’t rushed, at least not to her. Three years of togetherness meant that she knew him well, and she hugged him tightly, sighing happily when he lifted her off her feet, breathing into her neck.

   “It’s not too soon,” she murmured, giving Michonne a grateful smile. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

 

  
   Since they had to rush to her apartment to pack up some clothes, it was after midnight when they ended up back at his house, the two trying to get a few hours sleep before the 6 am flight, and there was no sex to be had. So now that she had him to herself in the hotel room, Jess wasn’t letting this opportunity get away.

   Rick twisted himself around in her arms, checking to see that she was truly ready, and she backed up towards the bed, kicking off her shoes as they moved in unison, plopping onto her ass. She still had a hold of his waist, and she trailed her fingers underneath his shirt to the button of his jeans, undoing it as he let out a low, rumbling moan.

    _God bless the sun_ , she thought as she took in the tanned muscles of his stomach, stretching her lips to brush them along the downy hair that disappeared into his boxers, barely noticing that he used his knee to push her legs apart, inching closer. Sitting next to him on the plane, riding side by side in the car over to the Wynn, it was all she could do to keep her hands to herself, but now she was free to do all the things that she’d thought about for days, if not weeks.

   He was hers again, as much as she was his, and Jess yanked the jeans and boxers down in one motion, licking her lips as he divested himself of the shirt, a feast for the eyes.

   “Why am I the only one naked?” he asked, hissing when she took him into her mouth, jerking his hips until she steadied him with a hand to the waist.

   “Jess…”

   Bobbing her head, she used her other hand to assist her with her favorite job, giving him the same intense stare that he’d done to her when he was between her legs, hollowing her cheeks as he started to leak, the salty fluid making her mouth water. The lightest of blushes started on his chest, working its way up his neck, and it made her want to break out into a childish grin, knowing that he was close to coming, even after just a few minutes. He knew it, too, and he gnarled his hands into her hair, pulling back.

   He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t exactly gentle either when he grabbed the hem of her dress, lifting it over her head and steering her onto her back as he undid her bra. Rick may be a gentleman in the streets, but behind closed doors, he never failed to make her feel satisfied, and when he stripped off her panties, Jess was as aroused as she’d ever been, making him smile in anticipation.

   It was torture, the mere feel of his cock brushing up against her entrance as he licked at her neck, her breasts, and she let out a whimper, straining her hips upwards for more contact. His skin was fiery where it touched hers, his lips were soft, and the hair on his chest made her nipples send jolts of pleasure straight through her.

   “Rick, please,” she begged, digging her nails into the muscles of his back, straining with effort until he lined himself up, pushing in easily due to the slickness inside her. “Oh, God.”

   Breathing unsteadily, Jessica rocked her hips each time he moved, meeting him halfway because her body remembered this dance even better than her brain did. Tongues intertwined rhythmically, and he twisted to the side, allowing her to take control as she mounted his hips, linking hands with his.

   No one looked at her the way Rick did, not even Negan. The blending of love and lust in his eyes spurred her to work faster, to get even more friction, especially when he shook his hands free to clasp her hips, moving them from side to side as his teeth bit into his lower lip, the oncoming orgasm like a slow and steady pulse between them.

   When the first waves hit, she hunched over, riding it out as Rick picked up the pace for her, raising her lower half so that he could thrust upwards, groaning in satisfaction as he came shortly after her, the two slumping into a mixed pile of body parts.

   Jess had barely enough energy to straighten her legs, her cheek flush against his chest right where his heart sat, and she smiled sleepily as she listened to the rhythm gradually slow down to its regular rate, knowing that it was exactly what she needed to be sure that everything was good and right in her world again.

 

 

  
_Where the fuck was she?_

   Negan burned a hole in the wall as he glared at it, slamming his fist on the counter when Michonne hung up in his ear, giving him only a perfunctory excuse as to why Jessica hadn’t returned his calls.

   ‘She’s out of town’, the bitch said, contempt dripping from every syllable. Didn’t she fucking know how hard it was for him to wait a week to reach her? Did she have any clue the sort of shitfuck hell he’d been in, thinking about her twenty-four hours a day for seven days? Why did no one ever consider his feelings?

   Sleep was non-existent, he wasn’t able to eat, and Olivia was going to make him lose his fucking mind if she asked him one more time if he was okay. Fuck, Dwight had already taken over most of his caseload because he was so goddamned distracted when he should’ve been paying attention to his clients. But no, no one fucking cared about Negan or how _he_ was doing after the wedding. A part of him even resented his little bird, that she hadn’t checked on him to make sure he wasn’t fucking traumatized by what happened. It’s not like she knew…

   He turned on the faucet, running his hand under the cold water to try and take the sting out of hitting the marble countertop, ignoring the creepy-crawly sensation on his spine as he glanced over his shoulder. His apartment was starting to feel like a prison, each inch of the place drenched in the aura of Lucille.

   Ever since he dropped Jessica off at her house, Lucille had been on the periphery of his every movement, every thought. She could charge rent with the space she took up in his head, taunting him with the fact that she was gone and it was his fault. Dead or alive, she was always going to be there, reminding him of what he’d done, how he’d let her down, and not even Jessica could take that away right now.

   Maybe that’s why it was so important to right that particular ship, he assumed, shutting off the faucet and absently opening the fridge for a beer, never mind the fact that it was still early morning. If he could get out from under the weight of Lucille, he might be able to take a deep breath again and look ahead instead of behind him all the time.

_Just get the face-to-face meeting, fuckwad. Once she sees the shape you’re in, she’ll want to be there for you. We can heal together._

   Carrying the bottle with him, he sat on the ugly couch, debating on the exact words he should use to text her, vowing that if she didn’t answer, he’d just drive to her house to see if she was gone like Michonne said. After he pressed send, he chugged the beer as he kept one eye on the screen, his heart speeding up when it said ‘delivered’ about an hour later.

   Hope, or at least the dare to hope bloomed like a spring bud in his chest when he received a short reply just a few seconds later, and like the flick of a switch, everything was looking up.

    **Wednesday. Two o’clock at Brown’s Diner.**

   Jack fuckin’ pot.

   Six little words, and he felt sheepish relief because he’d let himself get all worked up over nothing.

   Negan stood up, sauntering over to the trash can and tossing his empty bottle in with the others, a happy tune playing over and over in his head as he carried on to the bathroom to get a shower and clean up.

   “You’re wrong, Lucille,” he muttered to himself as he started up the water. “I  _can_ do the right thing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're getting maaarrried!  
> Is it fast? Yep.  
> Do they care? Nope.  
> Will Negan react well? Of course not.


	24. Chapter 24

   Brown’s Diner was an Atlanta institution, around for over sixty years, a hidden gem that Rick stopped at frequently when he was on patrol, something that hadn’t happened for a while. Since he’d been paired up with Daryl, his days in a cruiser had come to a close, though he was filling in on this bright Wednesday due to a flu bug that was going around the department. Daryl had offered to ride along, but they were knee deep in backlogged cases, and Rick declined, assuring him that he’d call if he needed anything.

   The smell of fried food met his nostrils as soon as he opened the door of the old, converted boxcar, well ahead of schedule. A cheerful waitress in a mint green uniform pointed to a booth in the back, and he nodded respectfully, edging to the right of the small area, past the counter to the corner booth as every customer he walked by seemed to sit up a little bit straighter, a common occurrence when he was in uniform. It always made him chuckle internally, the way some people reacted to cops, a slight nervousness even though there was nothing amiss, and he sat with his back to the wall, able to see the entrance clearly.

   The waitress, a bustling woman named Jo, going by her nametag, came over to take his order, and he asked for a coffee, getting it in just under a minute. The diner was classic, with retro kitsch along the walls and a tin ceiling. Fifties music was playing at a comfortable level in the background, a nice compliment to the sound of food being fried just a few feet away, and Rick pulled out his phone, sending a quick checkup text to Jess.

   After arriving back home Tuesday, newly married and happier than he ever knew he could be, they’d spent the previous day and night packing up her apartment with Paul’s help. He still felt weird calling the guy ‘Jesus’, but he was really friendly and Rick was glad to know him. Jess had convinced him to keep the apartment, urging him to plant roots, and after a lengthy conversation, Paul agreed, excusing himself for a few minutes.

   Jess told him that Paul’s mother was in a facility for Alzheimer’s patients and that all of his money went to support her. “He’s such an awesome human,” she’d said, tossing an armful of clothes into a plastic tote. “I get that he’s so focused on making sure his mom is taken care of, but it doesn’t mean that he can’t have a life of his own.”

   “You’re a good woman,” he mused, carrying out the latest box and storing it in his back seat since the trunk was already full. His house was already furnished, so there were only a few things besides her personal effects that she wanted to take, though Rick told her that the house was now hers as well, and she was free to redecorate however she saw fit.

   In fact, there was a shit ton that they needed to do, from getting her name changed to adding her to the housing deed. The property was already paid off, and he wanted her to be an equal owner in everything of his. Since his parents were gone, there was no one other than his friends that he needed to tell, and he cravenly left it up to Carl to let Lori know. He probably should’ve given her a head’s up, but the fact of the matter was that she didn’t afford him the same courtesy when she started screwing Shane.

   The door jingled, and he suppressed a scowl when Negan came walking into the diner, looking around for Jessica. He raised his right hand, catching his attention, though it took him a second to place Rick. He stood there for a just a beat longer than normal, a chilly smirk taking over his face as he started towards the booth, giving Rick ample time to size him up.

   Negan was a handsome man, far more than Rick, which he already knew from the incident on his porch, and even just a few weeks ago, it would’ve killed his ego, going toe-to-toe with this guy. He’d obviously dressed for Jessica, wearing a black pair of trousers and a button-down shirt. His hair was slicked back and he had just a hint of stubble. If they were forced to stand next to each other, it might’ve made him feel like dirt, except that he had something that Negan didn’t. Jessica’s love.

   “I should’ve known,” Negan chuckled, pouring himself into the booth across from him, slinging his arm over the back of the seat. “Did Jessica even get my message?”

   “Of course,” Rick said, stirring his coffee with one hand while the other laid in his lap. “She showed it to me, but I’m the one that set up this little meeting.”

   “What can I get you?” Jo asked, greeting Negan with a smile, and he turned on the charm, pulling it from nowhere as Jo batted her eyelashes at him.

   “Just some coffee, darlin’,” he purred at her, flashing his brown eyes and she let out a breathy giggle as she hustled away. The second her back was turned, the act was over, and Rick was treated to a much different look, a scathing disdain that neither bothered or pleased him. Not yet.

   “So, _what_ , Rick? We here to exchange pleasantries? Because you’re not the one I’m interested in talking to. Thank you, sweetheart,” he purred as Jo set the coffee down in front of him, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Rick mentally rolled his eyes, waiting until she was free and clear before he picked up his cup and took a sip, adding a touch more sugar when it wasn’t sweet enough.

   “Jessica doesn’t want to talk to you. She has no interest in communicating with you again after what happened.”

   “You don’t know what she wants.”

   “Oh, I do,” Rick smiled, and Negan’s eyebrow twitched only slightly. “I was there when she got your little ‘I’m sorry’ text. She flat out said that she had no interest in anything you had to say.”

   “And you went behind her back to arrange this little get together to…what? Tell me to back off?”

   “Correct. She wants to be left alone, and I’m here to make sure you understand that.”

   “If you really think I’m going to just let you tell me what to do because you’re still harboring some sad crush-“

   His words cut off abruptly when Rick raised his left hand, his wedding ring catching Negan off guard, the satisfaction better than he ever dreamed. “She’s my wife, now.”

   “Oh, holy _shit_ ,” Negan laughed, tipping his head back and drawing out the sound until he ran out of breath. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

   “She loves me, asshole.”

   Negan’s head snapped forward, the look in his eyes stirring up a bloodlust that Rick found hard to keep tamped down in his gut. This guy was fucking dangerous, and his first instinct was to protect his family at all costs. “She loves _me_. You’re pathetic, Rick. Tricking her into marrying you on the rebound. You can’t take care of her the way I can. I mean, look at you,” he snorted, pointing his index finger at his chest. “You live in a little three-bedroom house in the suburbs and you work a nine-to-five job. You’ll never be able to give her what she needs, Rick, and we both know it. Jessica desires passion and beauty. She belongs with me.”

   “You don’t know shit about her or what’s important to her,” Rick said in a steady voice, watching Negan’s grin widen, but there was doubt in his eyes. “You knew her for a few months. I’ve been with her for years. She doesn’t care about money or fancy shit, and if you really had any insight into who she is, you’d know that. But the fact of the matter is, she’s my wife now, and unlike you,” he leaned forward so that he was only a few inches from Negan’s face, “I plan on making sure she’s safe.”

   The grin disappeared like it had been wiped away, and Negan shot forward so that their noses were almost touching. “Oh, I hope you’re joking right now. There’s nothing more important to me than her safety.”

   “You mean like Lucille’s?”

   Warm breath blew out across his nose, and if they weren’t in public, surrounded by other people, Rick was positive that Negan would’ve smashed his skull in right then.

    _“What?”_

   “You heard me,” Rick eased back slightly, dropping the bomb right in his lap. “You told Jess that she died of cancer.”

   “She did, you sick fuck. What kind of diseased mind-“

   “You’re a fucking liar. You’re a twisted, sorry excuse for a human being, and I’m here to tell you one time, and one time only, to stay the fuck away from my wife. She may think that Lucille died of cancer, but I know the truth. She died of an ‘accidental’ overdose,” Rick’s mouth twisted around the words, even as Negan’s face went from red to purple. “I saw the autopsy report. Kind of like what almost happened to Jessica. I may not be able to prove what you’ve done, but I know. I know _everything_. I know what happened to your wife, and I know what you did to Jess. I heard about all the ways you hurt her, and if you ever come near her again, I’ll kill you.”

   Negan stared through him, and he tossed a twenty on the table to pay for the coffee, sliding out of the booth. As he passed by the other man, he bent down low with one final warning. “I’ll gladly go to jail for slitting your throat if you so much as even make her frown ever again. And unlike you, I won’t cover it up.”

   Rick walked out the door, tipping his head to the waitress as he bounded down the steps back into the bright sunshine, feeling a hundred pounds lighter. As he reversed out of his spot, he caught one last look at Negan through the window, the latter watching him with a stony look, and he beeped the horn as he turned around, gripping the wheel in triumph.

 

 

   “Mom, I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over,” Jess sighed, removing her heels as she sat on the bed, still in her work clothes. Ever since she called her mom to tell her about the wedding, it had been nonstop. The questioning, the guilt trips, the moaning about how she wasn’t included. “We didn’t want a big to do.”

   “You’re my only child,” she sniffled. “How could you deny us the chance to watch you walk down the aisle?”

   “Because we didn’t invite anyone. It wasn’t about making it a spectacle,” she said, hearing the front door open and the click of Rick’s boots as they made their way down the hall. When he came strolling in, she completely forgot what she was saying, struck by the sight of him in his uniform. She’d always been a sucker for it, even though he only wore it sparingly, and he kissed her forehead before mouthing ‘your mother?’ as she nodded her head in exasperation.

   “Look, mom, Rick and I will come down for a visit soon, and then you can have a party for your friends or something.”

   “I still don’t get it, though. You told me you and Rick were broken up, and then all of a sudden you’re flying off to Vegas.”

   “I know it’s hard to understand,” she said, watching as Rick took off his shirt with his back to her, losing her train of thought.

   “Jess?”

   “Hey, can I call you later? I just walked in the door. I’ll see when we’re free to visit and let you know. Love you.”

   By the time her mom hung up, he was completely nude, tossing his clothes in the hamper, and she watched as he walked into the bathroom, his ass bouncing perfectly with each step.

   “Your mom still harpin’ on you about Vegas?” he called out over the water, and she nodded her head even though he couldn’t see it. The curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, the clean lines of his back. She couldn’t get enough of him, and she untied the belt on her dress, stripping off her clothes and sidling into the bathroom behind him.

   “Jess?”

   Opening the curtain, she slid into the steamy space while his head was under water, running her hands across the top of his shoulders. “How was work?”

   “Good,” he spattered her with water when he turned around, resting his hands on her hips as he pulled her closer, nuzzling the underside of her jaw. “Any day I get to come home to this is a good day.”

   Jessica couldn’t get a tan if her life depended on it, but Rick was even darker after soaking up the rays in Nevada, bringing out a few freckles that dotted his chest, and she pressed herself up against him, giving him a real kiss, the water cascading down between their bodies. Their movements started off slow, but as her internal temperature ratcheted up, matching the mood of the room, Jess got bolder, reaching down to stroke him as he groaned into her mouth.

   “Fuck, I haven’t even cleaned up yet,” he mumbled, digging his fingers into her flesh, and she sped up her movements before licking her way down his chest, ending up on her knees. He tasted salty and delicious, and Jess shut her eyes to keep from getting water in them, using just her sense of touch as she opened her mouth. Rick slowly eased himself inside her lips, using his fingers to gently massage the back of her scalp as he began to move his hips, each thrust pushing himself deeper and deeper into her throat.

   Each time he edged forward, he let out a rumbling sound, music to her ears, and she increased the suction around his cock, relishing that she made him so happy, so relaxed. It turned her on, and when he came, he hunched over her, holding her in place as he worked through the aftershocks of it, resting his head against the tile when he finally stilled.

   Wiping her mouth, she used his body to help stand up, and she spent the next few minutes getting pampered, from having her hair washed and conditioned to a full-body rubdown, peppered with kisses and caresses, and by the time the water was shut off, Jess was panting in need.

   They barely made it to the bed, ending up half on and half off, bent over as Rick fucked her from behind, each slap of his skin on hers a welcome sound. Jess lifted her leg, resting her knee on the mattress, and it made each thrust deeper, hitting every sensitive part of her, to the point that her entire body was shaking, seemingly held up only by Rick’s hands around her waist. “Fucking hell,” he growled, the deep register sending a separate shiver up her spine. “I could do this all night.”

   “Please,” she begged, her chest getting warm as her breasts rubbed against the comforter, making her nipples nearly raw with feeling. “Rick, please.”

   “Please, what?” he landed a gentle smack to her right cheek. “Fuck you all night?” Each word was punctuated with another stroke, and her head dropped onto her hands. “Tell me, Jazz. Tell me what you want.”

   Fuck, she was so turned on, both by his words and his actions, the steady pulsing inside her reaching a fever pitch, and it was a bucket of ice water when his movements ceased, making her head pop up. “Don’t stop.”

   “Tell me, baby.”

   “Rick, please,” she reared back, finding herself unable to get any more friction, and he leaned over, brushing his stubble along the base of her neck as one hand left her waist, dipping down between her legs and brushing against her with a feather-light touch.

   “Tell me, Mrs. Grimes.”

   Hearing him call her that sent a wave of shock and desire straight through her, and she lurched upright, wrapping her arm around his neck, whimpering when he resumed his frantic pace, his middle finger making rapid circles as she twisted her head to the side, biting his neck. “Make me come, Rick. Please.”

   An explosion of warmth made her go limp, the spasms sending the two of them fully onto the bed, with Rick resting on her back, a few more pumps making him expel a satiated breath in her ear as she tried to catch her own.

   Lowering her leg, she rolled underneath him so that they were facing each other, and she traced the outline of his jaw as he gave her a sleepy smile. “You’ve got a bit of a freaky side, don’t you, wifey?”

   Jess pinched his skin in warning, and he laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. “I think you get off on it more than I do,” she snorted, gazing into his eyes. He seemed completely relaxed and happy, and frankly, it was heartwarming. Gone were the downtrodden looks and uncertainty about how she really felt for him, and it made her insides feel all jiggly and hot. “Say it again.”

   “What?”

   “You know what,” she ran her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug, and she was rewarded with a sexy smile and even more weight on her torso before he began giving her little love bites along her chest.

   “Mrs. Grimes…”

   “Oh my God!”

   They both looked up to see Carl standing in the open doorway with a traumatized expression, scrambling to cover themselves as he shot down the hallway. “My eyes!”

   Jess was so embarrassed that her entire body flushed bright red, and Rick tossed her a robe as he hurriedly found a pair of sweatpants, shooting down the hall to talk to Carl, and she shut the door behind him, sinking back down onto the bed with her head in her hands. No way was she going to be able to face him again, not after that.

 

 

   Negan drove home, barely even able to keep his attention on the road, and when he got to the back of the Sanctuary, he pulled his car into the garage, slamming his hand on the wheel hard enough that it shook, dangerously close to getting damaged.

   That short, spindly fuck had the nerve to threaten him? A rage that was so black, so frightening took over, and he ended up in the back field without even knowing how he got there. When he came back to his senses, he was standing with a pickaxe in his hand and a huge crater in the dirt where they’d just started clearing the brush for the swimming pool.

   Lucille. Jessica.

   He’d lost them both, in almost the exact same way, and he couldn’t figure out why. And to run off and get married to that fucker? How could she do that to him? After everything they’d been through.

    _It’s not her fault,_ his devil whispered in his ear as he panted, staring down at the jagged hole he’d created. _It’s Rick’s. He took advantage of her at a weak moment._

   There’s no way that she’d prefer him over Negan. I mean, there was no comparison. Negan was taller, richer, damned sure better looking, and he could give her the world. Rick fucking Grimes couldn’t. He didn’t have that spark that Negan did. The underlying knowledge of what could make her happy.

    _So, bide your time. Come up with a plan and show her. Prove to her that she made a mistake. Don’t let her get away_ like _you did with Lucille._

   It hurt to even think her name right now, the similarities sending a pain to his heart that he’d thought he’d never have to feel again. How did the only two women he’d ever loved in his life let him down? Break his heart into a million pieces.

   As he stood over the mess he’d made, wondering what he was going to tell the contractors, the seeds of a plan began to bloom, putting everything else on the back burner. Dropping the pickaxe on the ground, he jogged back to his private entrance, prowling the floors one by one until he found what he wanted, and he started to laugh, the relief better than any orgasm he’d ever had.

   Rick Grimes had made a huge miscalculation when it came to Negan and what he would do for Jessica, and he was going to make him pay for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I spent the entire holiday with the flu. I hope everyone else had a good one!
> 
> And yes, Rick just poked the bear. Badly.


	25. Chapter 25

   “You got your dancin’ shoes on?” Jess asked with a twang, and Rick snorted as he took her hand, helping her out of the car.

   “Oh, you know me,” he scoffed. “Always out on the floor cuttin’ a rug.”

   “Not your first rodeo, eh, honey?”

   “Please stop with the puns,” he sighed, placing his arm around her waist as they walked towards the entrance of Smokey’s Bar and Grill.

   “You’re the one that told Andrea she could throw us a party at a country bar for God’s sake,” she reminded him, grinning like an ass as his head dipped down. “I’m just trying to fit in.”

   “Har har. Just stop, or I’ll go full redneck in there and really make you sorry.”

   Andrea never half-assed anything in her life, and Jess was positive that this party was going to be spirited, to say the least. When she’d told her longtime friend about the quickie wedding, Andrea flipped out, in a good way. A crushing hug and a bout of tears accompanied her congratulations, along with a plea to plan a wedding celebration. Jess knew her friend had her best interests at heart, and truly wanted to do something nice, but she also suspected that part of why she was going overboard was guilt about what happened at her wedding.

   They’d talked extensively about it, and Jess told her over and over that there was no one to blame. Never once did she express her suspicions that Negan was the one that drugged her, but it didn’t matter. The experience had tainted her wedding day, and Andrea was probably trying to salvage anything she could from it.

   As to why Rick agreed to have this little shindig here, she figured it was temporary insanity, but she went along with it. Honestly, Jess didn’t care where her friends wanted to congregate, as long as they were all there. In the spirit of commitment, she was wearing a plaid shirt and jean skirt, and Rick found her a pair of cowboy boots. She felt like an idiot since it wasn’t her style at all, but considering the way Rick had been pawing at her since they left the house, she figured it looked okay to him.

   When they walked inside, they were greeted to a round of cheers and a shit ton of confetti in their faces. Everyone was there, including Rick’s buddies from the department, and they spent the first several minutes accepting well wishes and hugs, finally getting handed a beer each as the party made its way to the corner of the establishment where a ‘Congratulations!’ banner was hung.

   Smokey’s was built in the style of a barn, with hay lofts on the second floor and a mechanical bull up on a stage. Two separate bars at each end of the building were packed to the gills with people, and they were assigned two waitresses to tend to their group.

   Nothing prepared her for seeing Jesus in a pair of chaps and cowboy hat, and she burst out laughing when he came sauntering over to her, dragging Aaron behind him who looked positively aghast.

   “Howdy, sweetcheeks,” he called out, wrapping her in a bear hug as Aaron shook Rick’s hand. “Mr. Sweetcheeks,” he nodded to Rick, whose face turned a pale shade of pink. “How do I look?”

   “Like you should be on Hee Haw,” Jess muttered, laughing when he gave her a blank look. “How’s the apartment?”

   “Getting there,” he said, fingering the rim of his hat. “Aaron’s stuff clashes with mine, but we’re negotiating what’s staying and what’s going.”

   “What he means is, all my stuff is getting pitched.”

   “I am an artiste,” Jesus declared, kissing Aaron on the cheek. “I need a space that lets me tap into my latent creativity.”

   “Do you see? Do you see what I deal with?” Aaron announced to no one in particular as Jesus dragged him over to the waitress, allowing Andrea and Phillip to step up.

   “Congratulations, Jessica,” Phillip gave her a hug before shaking Rick’s hand, clapping him on the back. Andrea took Jess by both hands, excitedly telling her how well everything came together, and more people crowded around them as the music kicked into a higher tempo making the group start to groove along. She chatted with Phillip for a while until Andrea pulled her out onto the dance floor, and she and her friends attempted some poorly choreographed line dancing. Rick just shook his head at her, returning to a discussion with Daryl, who’d joined some of his other cop buddies, all of them clustered near the bar.

   Daryl looked the exact same that he did when he was working, with jeans and a leather vest, his hair hanging in his eyes, and she gave him a quick hug when she went to refill her drink, straining to hear him when he congratulated her on the wedding.

   “He’s a good man,” Daryl mumbled, inclining his head towards Rick. “Take care of ‘im.”

   “I try to,” she kept a straight face as his eyes widened, the allusion making his cheeks slightly ruddy, and she smacked Rick on the ass, feeling a little buzzed as Jesus linked his arm in hers, wanting to try the barn dance. She was completely lost as the men formed the inner circle and the ladies the outer. As the music began, she and Jesus stumbled over the steps, nearly running into the couple to the right of them, and she gave an apologetic smile.

   The men stepped to her right, and she was paired with a gangly guy with really large teeth, and he nodded his head before guiding her, keeping an iron grip on her waist so she didn’t stray too far. By the time they were halfway through the song, she started to get the hang of it, and when the last strains died out, she was breathless, high-fiving her last partner as Rick came strolling over, kissing her.

   “See? It’s not so bad, is it, the country life?”

   “No, farmer Rick,” she teased, “it’s not bad. Are you gonna move us out into the sticks and raise cattle?”

   “Maybe when I retire,” he shrugged, making her eyes widen before grinning. “I’d never make you live your beloved city life, Jazz.”

   “You never know, down the road,” she peeled away from him. “I might do it just for you.”

   Jess spotted Michonne in the corner, sipping on a cocktail as she watched everyone laughing and having a good time, so she plopped down next to her on a cushioned seat, resting her head on Michonne’s shoulder.

   “Why are you over here by yourself?”

   “I’m just taking a breather and enjoying seeing everybody get shitfaced. I wish my reception had been this casual.”

   “This isn’t a reception,” Jess blew a raspberry, snuggling into her. “It’s just a party. And I’m going to see you out on the floor before this night is over.”

   “Mmmhmm,” Michonne placated her before resting her cheek on Jessica’s head. “How’s Carl? You two still tiptoeing around each other?”

  “Jesus. You have no idea how ugly it was right after.”

   Ever since he walked in on her and his dad in a ‘delicate’ situation, it had been the most uncomfortable she’d ever been around the kid since they’d started dating. It seemed like any time he’d catch her eye, they would both shudder and scuttle out of the room. Rick, for his part, thought that it would just take time for them to move past it, and he nonchalantly gave his opinion one night when they were getting ready for bed.

   “He knew we were together, but seeing it…” Rick chucked his jeans, leaving them on the floor even as Jess shot him a look for doing so, “he always thought of you as more, uh, innocent, I guess. And finding you in that position, it’s like he knows that you and I are actually…sexual with each other.”

   Jess didn’t know if it was worse that Carl had the sudden epiphany or if it was the way that Rick explained it, but that night, she put herself in his shoes, and she could remember what it felt like to be young, really young, when you didn’t think that anyone ever lived life as fully and completely as you did. Truly, it would’ve repulsed her to imagine her own parents getting it on, and probably to this day, she lived in denial, thinking of them as a living Ken and Barbie, all smooth under their clothes.

   The best thing that she could do for Carl was to just give him the space that he needed to come to terms with the fact that she and Rick were fully formed human beings with the same emotions and desires that he was. Or until he thought of them as sexless, again, whichever came first.

   Michonne let out a peal of laughter, and the two toasted to easier days ahead until Jess reminded her that there was a very good chance the same thing could happen with her when Andre got older.

   “Don’t be tryin’ to curse me,” she said, getting a little more lax with her accent as she downed her drink. Andrea and Phillip were talking to a couple that she’d never seen before until Phillip excused himself and disappeared into the crowd. Rick was curiously out of sight as well, and as the next song ended, the DJ asked everyone to clear the dance floor.

   “At this time, we’d like to ask our celebrating newlywed Jessica to please head out to the middle of the floor.”

   Several cheers erupted as she looked around in surprise, but everyone just waved to her to get a move on, and the patrons of the bar formed a loose circle around the edges.

   “Come on, Jess!” people shouted at her, and she stood up with burning cheeks as she made her way through jawing friends and curious strangers, feeling bare and exposed when she reached the middle of the floor, giving a halfhearted wave to the DJ up on stage.

   “There she is,” the guy deadpanned. “This little lady just got hitched, and I’ve been informed by some friends of hers that there was no reception. You know what that means, ladies and gents,” he paused. “There was no first dance for the bride and groom.”

   The crowd booed jovially, and Jessica’s heart almost stopped beating when Rick came edging through the crowd with a smile, so handsome and perfect that everything else dissolved into a mist, leaving just the two of them in this empty space. She could hear the music begin, but all of her focus was on Rick as he reached her, taking her right hand as his other arm pulled her firmly against him, and he turned her in a slow circle, never breaking eye contact even when a dreamy smile crossed her face.

   “You’re dancing,” she said, resting her forehead against his. “I can’t believe you’re actually out here doing this.”

   Rick never danced. _Never._ Countless weddings, nights out, parties. He always begged off, saying he was born with two left feet, yet here they were in front of everyone, being watched by hundreds of people, and he brushed his stubble back and forth over her lips as they moved.

   “I’d do anything for you.”

_Hope they never end this song_

_This could take us all night long_

   

   Jess may not have wanted a wedding, but there was no denying that having this dance, this chance to let their friends see what they really meant to each other was perfect, and she felt her eyes get teary, shutting them for a few seconds while they held each other.

_Love, look what you've done to me_

_Never thought I'd fall again so easily_

_Oh, love, you wouldn't lie to me_

_Leading me to feel this way_

   

   “Don’t cry,” he soothed, leaning in slightly to kiss her. “I can’t be that bad at this.”

   She let out a breathy laugh, picking at a few curls on the back of his neck. “They’re happy ones, jerk. I just never thought…”

   “I know. Me either.”

_Hold me closer than you'd ever dare_

_Close your eyes and I'll be there_

_After_ _all is said and done_

 _After_ _all_ _you are the one_

_Take me up your stairs and through the door_

_Take me where we don't care anymore_

   As the last few chords of the song played, he kissed her fully, bringing her to a stop as he took her literal breath away, and when the bar started to cheer, they broke apart, leaving her dizzy for a moment, a dose of reality bleeding into the fantasy. It was also entirely possible that she needed a break from the alcohol for a little bit.

 

 

 

  
   The hayloft offered an unobstructed view of the entire bar, a chance to scope out each and every person that walked through the door. Men and women of all ages, most wearing Wranglers and boots filled the bar, none of which were his type at all. Phillip had inadvertently told him about Jessica’s party being here when he’d called him to see if they could meet for a drink, and the anger had settled in his stomach like an undigested meal, infecting everything.

   “I’m sorry, Negan,” Phillip apologized as Negan remained silent. “Let’s do it tomorrow night instead.”

   “Sure,” he replied, trying to infect his voice with nonchalance. Ever since the reception and the fallout, Negan had intentionally avoided any conversation about Jess with his oldest friend, even when Phillip thought he was breaking the news that she’d eloped to Vegas with Rick. His ability to hide his emotions, to shuttle them to the side to play the role of carefree bachelor was enough to convince Blake that even though it sucked, his relationship with Jess was over and if marrying Rick made her happy, then he was happy.

   “I know it’s not how you were hoping things would go,” Phillip told him, sounding regretful. “I like Jess, and I liked you with her. She’s a great girl. But take some time to mourn the end of your relationship. They’ll be someone else that’s right for you, old friend. I mean, look at me.”

   “Rub it in, asshole,” Negan said, with a hint of his usual bite. “Not everybody gets a happy ending like you.”

   “Don’t say that.”

   “I’m kidding. If anything, at least she helped me to open myself up to finding love again.”

   Once they hung up, Negan got on his computer, checking the country bar for its hours of operation. He wanted to be there early enough to scope the place out so he could see her. He had to see her. No matter what Rick told him, he didn’t believe that Jess was happy. She had to be in some kind of funk, she was having a party at a country bar, for fuck’s sake. If the prick thought he knew her better than Negan, he was fucked in the head. It wasn’t her style, yet Rick had no problem making her celebrate there.

   If it was him, he would’ve booked the nicest place in Atlanta and treated her to anything she wanted. Rick was fucking selfish, and soon, Negan was going to get him out of the fucking way. He just needed to see this first.

   When she came in with her arm around him, it had been hard not to give away his position. He’d wanted to walk over to the rail and soak up the image of her, even though she didn’t look like herself in the hickish outfit. It didn’t…suit her, but he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, and he downed a beer as he stayed planted in the corner, observing all of the people that had come to join them.

   Phillip and Andrea. Her bitch friend Michonne and Mike. That asshole that clocked him with the long hair and beard, holding hands with Aaron. But none of them could hold his gaze, because it kept going back to his little bird. The way she laughed, her head tilting back slightly each time she spoke with a loved one. How graceful she looked even when she was off on the steps of the dances that kept recycling on the floor. The glitter of the ring when one of the moving lights would bounce off it, hitting his eye each time her hand came into view.

   And the anger ebbed away, leaving a sinking sadness when she walked onto the dance floor alone and he joined her, playing some song that hadn’t been listened to since the eighties. Touching her gently, pressing his cheek against hers as they turned together. Taking the love that should’ve been his if he had been smart enough to hold onto it.

   They disappeared from view as a belt buckle appeared in his face, and he looked up to see Phillip glaring down at him.

   “What the hell are you doing here, Negan?”

   “I…”

   He didn’t even have to lie. Right then, right at that second, he was broken, and he could see it in Blake’s face as he shook his head sadly.

   “I just had to see it for myself. I had to know that she’s happy,” he managed to say, unsticking the lump in his throat.

   “You have to go, man. I can’t cover for you if someone finds out you’re here,” Phillip took him by the arm, helping him to his feet. “You have to move _on_.”

   Negan nodded, and Phillip waited for the song to end and Rick and Jess were converged on by their friends before leading him down to the main floor and pushing him towards the exit. He slipped out the back door into the cool evening, sucking in a deep breath, trying to get himself together. The sadness had latched onto him like a stink, something he couldn’t wash off, and he ambled towards the parking lot, putting one foot in front of the other as his conscience took the opportunity to try and put a stop to this once and for all.

    _She’s happy. She’s here in this bar because she loves him, and you need to let her go. Rick was right. He knows her better than we do._

   He contemplated it on the drive home, just admitting defeat for only the second time in his life and packing it in. Going back to his old ways, when all he had to think about was himself and the next lay. He was rich, in awesome shape, and had no cares in the fucking world.

   But when he walked into his bedroom, the portrait was the first thing his attention went to, and he knew he couldn’t do it. It was meant to be. She walked into his life and into his heart for a reason.

   Kneeling on his mattress, he ran his finger along the flight path, the hazy pleas of his conscience dying out again, flittering away like so many wing beats.

   Rick Grimes had to disappear. It was the only way he was going to get her back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed their little 'reception'...because Negan is about to put his money where his mouth is, and...


	26. Chapter 26

   “This is so lame.”

   Rick gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath through his nose as Carl muttered under his breath for the third time. God forbid he spend some time as a family, even if it was at a Fourth of July parade. Glancing at his son out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jess nudge him with her elbow, urging him to keep his mouth shut. 

   Carl had been…prickly for the past month. Scratch that. He’d been a little shit, ever since he and Enid had broken up, and with his mom being pregnant and suffering from some epic morning sickness, he’d spent more than the usual amount of time hanging at his house, and for once in his life, Rick wasn’t enjoying it. The kid had been sullen, broody, and just an all-around pill, and if something didn’t change soon, he was going to lose his mind. 

   “Why do I have to come to this stupid barbeque with you guys?” Carl crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes as Rick puffed out his chest. 

   “Because I said so, that’s why. It’s a holiday and we’re spending the day as a family.”

   “But I don’t know anyone there. I’ll be bored.”

   “Andrea and Phillip have a big pool,” Jess said over the music, trying to diffuse the situation. “You can just hang out in there if you want.”

   “Whatever. I’d rather be with my friends.”

   Rick would rather that himself at this point, but he kept his mouth shut, refusing to give in. As stubborn as Carl thought he was, he had nothing on his father, and if it killed him, he was going to see this day through, especially since he was leaving the following morning for a trip with Blake. 

   Even though he was good friends with Negan, the more Rick got to know him, the more he liked him. They got along easily, and since Jess and Andrea were so close, a majority of their couple dates were with the two. Phillip had mentioned one night at dinner a month before that he had a little cabin in the mountains, and every summer he hosted a fishing party for his friends, inviting Rick along, who declined at first.

   “If it’s because of Negan, you don’t have to,” Phillip cautioned as Jess glanced over. “He won’t be there.”

   “You don’t have to not include him because of me.”

   “No, it’s not that,” Blake chuckled, resting his forearms on the table. “Negan’s not an outdoorsy kind of guy, plus he’s been tied up with his new girlfriend.”

   Rick’s gaze shifted over to Jess, who appeared acutely relieved at the news, but he wasn’t. He didn’t trust the asshole, no matter who he was dating. 

   “So, what do you say?”

   “Sounds great,” he replied, giving Jessica’s knee a gentle squeeze under the table. She’d been quiet on the ride home, so he let her mull the news over, and they entered the house in silence. It was only when they went to the bedroom to get undressed that she cornered him with a stern look, backing him into the corner. 

   “What did you do, Rick?”

   “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it towards the floor, but she caught it mid-air, flinging it into the hamper by the bathroom. 

   “There’s no way he backed off on his own. How stupid do you think I am?”

   “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Jazz-“

   “Don’t you _Jazz_ me, Rick Grimes,” she poked him in the chest, narrowing her eyes. “What did you do?”

   “Fine,” he gave in, taking her by the shoulders and steering her back to the bed, forcing her down as she glared at him. “I may have gone to see him when we got back from Vegas.”

   “You…you _what_?”

   “While you were in the bathroom at the hotel after you got his text, I answered him back and set up a meeting.”

   “So, you went behind my back and met with Negan, knowing the fucked up shit he’d done to me. You didn’t bother to tell me for weeks, and you think that’s okay?” 

   “I didn’t want to worry you,” he said, not really sure why she was upset. All he was trying to do was protect her, but she was pissed, royally so, and she shot off the bed with clenched fists. He’d never been afraid of a woman in his life, but he was damned sure uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him, and he took a step back, holding up his hands in surrender.

   “You’re not my knight in shining armor, asshole, and you’re not some caveman that came along and clubbed me over the head, dragging me back to your lair to claim me. We’re partners, and that means communication. What it _doesn’t_ mean is that you make unilateral decisions that affect me, you got it?”

   “Jess, I wasn’t trying to-“

   “Shut up,” she hollered, storming past him into the bathroom and slamming the door. He heard it lock, a tell-tale sign that she wasn’t coming out any time soon, and he sat in the spot that she’d vacated, running his hand through his hair. 

   He was gonna tell her at _some_ point, he just didn’t want to rock the boat. A stupid error in judgment for sure, and he had plenty of time to think about it over the following few days until she finally thawed enough to share a bed with him after bunking in the guest room. Rick reached out with a tentative hand, brushing her shoulder, and she reared back and elbowed him in the chest, making him lose his breath. Still, it was contact, and he tried again, getting the same response. 

   It shouldn’t have turned him on, but it did, and he ran his finger along the curve of her waist, groaning under his breath when the muscles twitched from his contact. 

   “I’m sorry,” he whispered, palming her ass as she leaned into it, only a little. “I’ll never go behind your back again.”

   She didn’t speak for a few minutes, just letting him run his fingertips over her body, finally rolling over to face him in the moonlight, and she stilled his movements. 

   “I get that you want to protect me,” she finally said, gripping his fingers a little too tightly. “But don’t treat me like some helpless little damsel in distress. I love that you want me safe, but that’s not how to go about it, and you know it.”

   “I’m sorry,” he murmured, chancing a kiss, and she let go of his arm, pulling him closer. 

   “You’d better make it up to me,” she said around his lips, and he did, easing the covers down her waist and sliding her shirt up at the same time.

 

 

   Since then, they’d avoided all talk of Negan, even though he was going to be at the party, and when the last float went by, he led Jess and Carl back to the car, turning the air conditioning up all the way, the lot packed to the brim with other people trying to head out at once. Carl grumbled until Jess turned on the radio, changing the channel to some station that played music that was going to give Rick a headache, pulse-pounding beats and unintelligible rap, and he settled in, waiting until there was a break in the convoy to pull out.

   Thirty minutes later, they pulled into Phillip and Andrea’s driveway, parking on the grass like they’d been instructed to, and Jess grabbed a blanket from the trunk so they could sit outside and watch the fireworks when it got dark.

   Andrea opened the door, greeting them all with a hug and kiss, waving them into the house with the other guests, and Rick took Jess by the hand, placing the other on Carl’s shoulder as they headed through the open living room and past the kitchen to the deck. Phillip was already out there, and when the doors opened, he called out a welcome, but Jess stopped suddenly since he was standing with Negan.

   When he locked eyes with the other man, he saw the faint vestiges of a challenge there until his gaze switched to Jessica, turning away almost immediately with only a nod of his head. Rick kept an eye on him as he headed off of the patio into a red fabric pavilion, sitting down next to a blonde woman, putting his arm around the back of her chair. 

   Once he was far enough away, it was like Jess became unstuck from where she was standing, taking a few tentative steps towards their host, kissing him on the cheek as Carl appeared completely bored. 

   “You doin’ okay?” Phillip asked, touching her cheek briefly. 

   “I’m fine,” she said, painting a bright smile on her face, and if he didn’t know any better, Rick would believe it’s true. But she linked her fingers with his, engaging with Blake for a few moments until more people began to crowd around. 

   “Make yourselves at home,” he encouraged them. “There’s plenty of room in the blue tent, and the food will be ready soon.”

   Carl stalked off down the sloping hill, past the tents towards the inground pool, taking one of the lounge chairs. There were several people in the water, though he didn’t join them, and Rick rolled his eyes, turning his head to see Jess watching him. 

   “He’s not leaving, not when he’s acting like a baby.”

   “All right,” she sighed, swinging their hands back and forth before casting a furtive glance at the red pavilion. “Should we grab a drink and say ‘hello’ to Brian and MarLynn?”

   They were catering the party, and Rick’s stomach growled in response, making Jess smile for real, and they crossed the patio to the large grills that were set up, hearing a tinkling laugh when MarLynn spotted them. 

   “Look who’s here,” she tapped Brian on the shoulder, and he looked up with a grin, coming around to give them both a hug. “If it isn’t the Grimes family.”

   Reaching behind him, he snagged a piece of brisket off the grill, slipping it to Rick, who shoved it into his mouth, moaning the second the meat hit his tongue. He and Jess had dined at their restaurant so many times, there wasn’t a dish that they made that he hadn’t feasted on, and it was worth seeing Negan’s face just to have unfettered access to the best barbeque he’d ever eaten.

   When they finally joined the other people in the blue tent, Jess was much more relaxed, and they sat together at a wood table with a few other couples, introducing themselves and cooling down as fans blew fresh air into the space, set up at each corner of the shaded area. 

   After about an hour or so, it seemed like Carl removed the stick from his ass and joined the other people in the water, talking to a younger girl in the deep end as others splashed around, and he nudged Jess, getting her attention. Inclining his head, he pointed it out, and she leaned into his side, sipping her beer. His son was looking more like himself, smiling as he took a splash of water to the face, and when he emerged from the pool to eat, he actually made eye contact with him, gesturing towards his plate to see if he was going to finish his baked beans. Rick pushed it towards him, and they disappeared in short order.

   All in all, it was a nice afternoon, and once it got dark, he handed his keys to Carl, telling him to bring them their blanket from the patio before heading out. 

   “Seriously? You’re letting me take your car?”

   “No drinking and no joyriding. I want you home by midnight.”

   “Thanks, dad.”

   He kissed Jess on the cheek before sprinting off, tossing the blanket in their general direction and disappearing into the house. 

   “You're such a wuss.”

   Rick ignored her, picking up his beer and staking out a good spot on the hill to watch the fireworks, spreading the blanket out and easing himself down in the middle, feeling Negan’s eyes on him. The other man was only about fifteen feet away, holding the blonde’s hand, and Rick stared him down until he was out of sight. 

   If Negan was leaving, at least they’d be able to watch the fireworks in peace, and Jess wouldn’t feel the need to look around every few minutes to make sure Negan wasn’t watching her, and sure enough, she headed over, situating herself between his legs and leaning against his chest, humming under her breath.

   “Fucking finally,” she muttered, and he chuckled, giving her a kiss on the cheek.   
  
  
  


 

 

   So. Fucking. Perfect.

   Her eyes, her skin, her smile. Negan’s eyes were shut, his mind on her and his body doing what came naturally, what it always did. Thrusting. Fucking. Rubbing. Moans above him and nails digging into his chest. He reached out instinctively, adding thumbs to his movements, and when she spasmed around him, it sent him into a blissful state, birds in flight behind his eyes.

   “Are you still with me?”

   “Huh?”

   Negan opened his eyes to see Larissa hovering over him, sweaty and flushed, and he brushed her blonde hair back over her shoulder, smiling tiredly.

   “You’ve been distracted lately, and every time we have sex, your eyes are always closed,” she said, bracing herself on her hands. “Are you thinking about someone else?”

   Negan turned her over as he slipped out of her, rolling off the condom and tossing it on the floor. “Why the fuck would I think about another woman when I’ve got you, baby?” he massaged her breast, kissing her to shut her up because she was right. It didn’t mean he didn’t think she was a cool chick, though. 

   When she showed him some interest a few weeks ago at the bar, it fit in perfectly with his plans and gave Negan the ability to blend back in with Phillip and Andrea, to allow them to get word to Rick and Jessica that he’d moved on and given up. 

   “All right, babe, I gotta go,” Negan extricated himself from her arms, picking up the used condom and tossing it in the trash. “I have an early appointment tomorrow.”

   Larissa sat up, watching him put his pants and shirt back on, and she gave him a saucy smile, pulling him back down for another kiss. “Happy Fourth, Negan.”

   “I’ll call you tomorrow, baby.”

   Whistling under his breath, he drove home with a smile. Larissa was a beauty, but when Jessica came walking into Blake’s yard with that curly-haired fucker, it was a balm to his soul. She was wearing a yellow sundress, her hair piled on top of her head, and his heart leapt in joy, just seeing her in person. She looked the same, the exact same, except for a streak of red in her hair, and he wanted her so badly that it was almost unbearable.

   Rick fucking Grimes took his girl, and he was trying to take his friend. He was taking over his goddamned life, and July fifth was a day of reckoning. A lot of time and money had gone into what he had set up, and there was no way he was going to lose again. Rick may have won the first battle, but Negan was going to win the war.

   Phillip was his unwitting ally, and Negan silently thanked his old friend for giving him both an alibi and a way to get Rick Grimes out of Jessica’s life and back into his. He set his alarm for three in the morning, laying out his clothes and bag with supplies. 

   When Blake had casually mentioned his annual fishing trip, Negan begged off like he usually did, and Phillip asked him if he’d mind if Rick came along. Playing the slightly hurt friend, he shook his head slowly.

   “I’m not gonna pretend that I like the asshole, but I can see why you would,” Negan told him, looking down at his hands. “I get that it’s easy to get along with him, especially since he and Jess are together and Andrea’s one of her best friends.”

   “Negan, you’re my oldest friend, practically my brother, and no one will ever replace that.”

   “I need to hear that,” he sighed, clapping Blake on the back. “Take the fucker on your trip. I’ll be here with my girl, getting laid instead of bit the fuck up by mosquitos.”

   The subject was dropped, and Negan spent the next few weeks coming up with a plan. Three trips to the cabin, and he scouted out the entire area, renting the nearest one to Blake’s. Now, it was finally fucking here, and he was going to get his life back. 

   And Rick Grimes had no fucking idea his comeuppance was imminent.

 

 

 

  
   At five in the morning, the alarm went off, and Rick sat up, stretching his arms before kissing Jess on the back of the head. He was equal parts excited to get out of town and reticent to leave her alone for a few days. Carl was heading back to his mom’s when he got up, and in the back of his mind, he worried about Negan trying to contact her while he was out of town and had no cell service. 

   Something about that guy still gnawed at him, and despite the fact that he hadn’t bothered her since they met up at the diner, he didn’t think Negan had truly given up. Rick had spent his entire life observing people, and that asshole wasn’t as slick as he thought he was. Stolen glances that he attempted to make look like he was just glancing around. Every single time his eyes strayed towards Jess, and Rick could see the longing from thirty feet away. 

   For the rest of his life, he felt like Negan was always going to be there, waiting for a chance to win her back, and Rick covered her up with the sheet, shuffling into the bathroom to get ready. After he shut the door, he turned on the light, blinking in the brightness before brushing his teeth, studying his reflection in the mirror. Age was slowly but surely catching up to him, from the stray gray hairs in his beard and at his temple to the fine lines around his eyes.

   His age difference from Jess didn’t really bother him, but the fact that he wasn’t getting any younger meant that if they wanted to have kids, it would have to be soon. She’d already gotten off her birth control, and they were pretty much winging it for the time being. He only had a rudimentary understanding when she started talking about cycles and whatnot, but he grinned at himself when he thought about the fun they’d been having trying to make a baby, and he almost woke her back up for a quickie before he left.

   Phillip texted him to let him know he was on his way, and Rick tossed his toothbrush and deodorant into his bag, zipping it up as Jess let out a sleepy sigh, shifting on the mattress. He bent down, giving her another kiss as she reached out blindly.

   “I’ll see you in three days, Jazz.” She murmured an okay, pushing him away gently. “Call Andrea if you need anything.”

   He checked on Carl before he headed downstairs, finding him with his legs hanging off and snoring, and he shook his head, envying him since he could sleep in any position, grabbing a cup of coffee as he waited for Blake.

   When he arrived, Phillip gave him a hearty good morning, and he climbed in the sedan, glancing back once at his house before settling in for a long guys’ weekend. 


	27. Chapter 27

   The boat glided slowly towards the dock under Phillip’s careful guidance, butting up softly against the porous wood, and Jeff jumped up onto the platform, wrapping the rope around the anchor to secure them safely, and Rick hauled the cooler over, handing it to him before climbing out much less gracefully. 

   Two days on the water and they had plenty of fish and a little bit of sunburn, but it was all good. These guys may not be his regular crew, but Jeff, Phillip and his friend Milton were nice. They were easy to hang out with, and he found himself relaxed and at ease with them, and he was looking forward to their last night at the cabin, drinking and cooking their haul.

   Milton was more of a science-type guy, but he was surprisingly adept at fishing, and Jeff kept up a lively conversation. He and Milton were both still single, and he spent the past two days telling them the most disgusting stories about the women he dated, and Rick thought if it was anyone else, he’d be disgusted and offended, but for some reason, it was hilarious, though he was happy he was off the market forever.

   By the time they unloaded their stuff off the boat and made their way back up the hill to the cabin, all four men were sweaty, and Phillip waved them up to get showered, promising a glass of whiskey and dinner when they were done. His house had four bedrooms and each had their own bathroom. Rick offered to help him get the fish cleaned and gutted, but Blake waved him off with a smile, telling him that he’d have them done in no time. 

   Even though they had no cell service, he did have a landline, and Rick stripped off his clothes when he got to his room, laying on the bed in his boxers as he dialed Jessica’s cell phone, smiling when she picked up on the third ring.

   “Hello?”

   “Hey,” he rumbled, rubbing his stomach. 

   “How’s life in the wild?” she asked, and he chuckled lightly. “Have you gone all ‘Lord of the Flies’ yet?”

   “No,” he laughed, “but it’s been nice, actually. The cabin’s nice, the guys are entertaining, and you know I love the outdoors. How're things at home?”

   “Quiet without you. I’ve spent most of my time at the gallery since Michonne’s on vacation.”

   “Anyone bothering you?”

   “No,” she sighed, knowing what he was asking. “All’s quiet on the western front. When are you getting back, though?”

   “I think we’re heading out tomorrow, late morning. We’re doing a big fish fry with our catches tonight, complete with lots of alcohol, so when we manage to rouse ourselves in the a.m., we’ll get on the road.”

   “Good, ‘cause I think I’m ovulating.”

   Jesus, even the thought of having her was making him hard, and he let out an involuntary moan, palming himself through his shorts. “What are you wearing right now?”

   “Don’t you dare,” she chided him, and he slowed the movement of his hand. “Save it for me, honey. I don’t want you wasting any.”

   “Come on, Jazz.”

   “Nope. I read up on it, and it ups our chances if you don’t knock one out at least twenty-four hours before, Rick.”

   “Honey, you’re getting all technical with this. Let’s dial it back a little and enjoy just trying.”

   “Please just do this for me,” Jess said quietly, and he let out a silent breath. “I really want this.”

   “I do, too, you know that. I just don’t want this to turn into a job for you. We’re gonna be fine, Jazz. This’ll happen for us. It’s only been two months since you got off the birth control.”

   He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head over the phone, and he sat up, planting his feet on the floor. “I promise I won’t waste any swimmers, okay?”

   “I love you.”

   “I love you, too, baby. And since I’m restraining myself, you owe me big when I get home.”

   “Any position, any spot,” she promised, and he hung up, tossing his boxers into his bag, taking a lukewarm shower as he fought the urge to sneak a quick rub ‘n tug. Damn her and her stupid rules. 

   He was the last one back down to the main level, and Phillip waved him over, handing him a plate of gutted and cleaned fish, already cut and filleted, gesturing for him to add some oil and seasoning to them. Milton was cutting up potatoes and other vegetables, and Jeff was on the deck firing up the grill.

   “How’s the missus?” Phillip asked, tossing the remains into the garbage can as he joined him at the counter. There were foil packets that were pre-made, and the two men added some fish to each one, drizzling them with herbs and oil. 

   “Good. Anxious for me to get back. We’re on the baby train.”

   “Ahh.”

   They worked in an easy silence, and Milton brought over the cut vegetables, placing even portions into each one. When they were ready for the grill, they carried them out to the deck, handing them to Jeff who put them over the flame, shutting the lid. 

   It was still hot out, and the bullfrogs were in full chorus as they each had a beer, bullshitting about work and the Braves. Not one discussion about a case, like he would with Daryl or Shane, in the past. No worrying about fertility cycles and teenaged hormones. Rick was thankful for everything in his life, good and bad, but sitting in the middle of nowhere, just enjoying a cold drink and the sound of the wind rustling the trees was rejuvenating him, giving him the mental balance and clarity that he needed to be at his best for his family.

   “Shit, I think dinner’s done,” Jeff muttered when the grill started smoking, and he opened the lid, using the tongs to scoop the packets off and set them on the metal tray. 

   Milton was the first one into the cabin, holding the door open for the rest as they settled around the table. He wasn’t a huge seafood fan, but something about eating what he’d caught made it satisfying, and he gorged himself on it, enough that his stomach started to hurt. The dining area was a mess, littered with plates, empty beer bottles, and food scattered across the table, and he started gathering up the debris, carrying it into the kitchen.

   Blake got up to help him, but he insisted on cleaning up, reminding him that he’d mostly made the meal, and Milton brought in the rest as Jeff picked at the last of the fish. 

   “Do you think you’ll join us for the end of summer trip?” he asked politely as Rick scrubbed at a plate. 

   “I, uh, haven’t been invited, but I guess so, if Phillip wants me to.”

   “You should,” Milton cocked his head to the side. “You’re much more like us than Negan is.”

   Rick’s hands tightened around the washcloth, sending a geyser of water onto his shirt, and he let out a deep breath through his nostrils. 

   “You’re not a Negan fan, I take it?”

   “Not really,” he resumed cleaning the dish. “He and I have a lot of different personal philosophies. You don’t seem to be a part of his fan club, either.”

   “He’s not…we’re two different types of men,” Milton shrugged, placing the clean dishes in the cupboard. “And he’s very fond of letting me know it.”

   “I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I think you’re worth a hundred of him.”

   Milton’s face turned bright red, and if Rick didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that it was the first time he’d ever been complimented. A part of him stupidly wondered if the other man had a crush on him, but he scolded himself for even entertaining the idea, not that it bothered him. In truth, it was almost flattering, and he stood up a little straighter, fixing a smile on his face as he wiped down the counter.

   “So, what do we think, guys?” Jeff called out from the deck as they finished up. “We ready for some last-night cigars and shots before we head back to real life?”

   “I might be done with the alcohol,” Rick said, letting the screen door snap shut, sitting on the reclining chair by the rail, stretching his legs out. “I’ve had more beers than I’m proud of over the last couple days.”

   “No way,” Jeff shook his head, disappearing back in the house and returning with a bottle of Jameson and a jar of pickle juice. “You’re not getting out of doin’ these picklebacks.”

   “Seriously? What’s the big deal about chasing whiskey with pickle juice?”

   “Just try it,” he poured a shot, followed by another of the juice, handing it over. “It’s awesome.”

   Phillip was grinning at him, and he swallowed the alcohol, his throat constricting as the burning liquid slid down his throat, immediately tossing the pickle juice in his mouth, and…it wasn’t bad.

   “Well?”

   “Fuck it, give me another,” he muttered as Blake slapped his thigh. Jeff was smiling in victory, and he downed another before waving for everyone else to catch up. Milton would only do one shot, coughing and choking it down, and he settled back into his chair, the warmth in his gut making him completely relaxed, and he stared up into the sky at the stars, his eyes eventually drifting shut.

 

 

   “Deceased victim is Jeff McCowin, aged forty-five. Apparent overdose.”

   Daryl stood over the body, shaky and fried as at least a dozen other officers milled around Phillip Blake’s cabin, searching for evidence and writing down information. The aforementioned Blake and another guy named Milton were being treated at the local hospital, and it was all hands on deck. 

   Something bad had gone down here, and Rick was missing. He’d gotten a terse call in the middle of the night from their Captain, informing him that the mayor of Atlanta had either been drugged or overdosed and to haul ass to his cabin. Daryl knew that Rick had taken a few days off to spend with the guy, and he immediately asked if his partner was okay, receiving no response, only dead air.

   When he’d pulled up at the remote place, it was just getting light out, and it had the eerie feeling of being a resting place for the dead, just like any other scene he worked, but with one glaring exception. This one was personal. Rick wasn’t only his partner, he was a friend, dangerously close to family. Daryl had been surly and standoffish when he first arrived for duty, having transferred from Buford to get away from the mess his actual brother made of his life. 

   Merle Dixon was at his core a good guy, but with both of them growing up in a neglectful and abusive home, they’d ended up on opposite sides of the law. Daryl sought order and structure, a way to erase some of the chaos of his upbringing, whereas Merle went whole hog into the seedy side of life, selling drugs and knocking over liquor joints. His co-workers never blamed Daryl or looked at him any differently, because he never tried to cut Merle a break or make any charges go away. But it ate him up inside, having to be the one that tried to keep him on the straight and narrow, and when he ended up going away for three years on a burglary conviction, Daryl took the opportunity to start fresh, to get a chance to be free from the impression that Merle automatically left on him, applying to work in Metro Atlanta, and getting accepted.

   Still, he expected to be the odd man out, mentally protecting himself by not interacting with anyone he didn’t have to. Rick was completely unbothered from the start, volunteering to partner up with him, and he broke down Daryl’s shoddy protective walls, making him feel like he was important and valued. Rick asked for his opinion on the cases they worked. He invited him over for dinner and went out for a beer with him after work. He made Daryl feel like a younger brother, how family should be. And now he was going to do everything he could to find out what happened to Rick.

   “Go over it again,” Daryl ordered, getting down on one knee next to the corpse. It smelled of urine, a common occurrence since most people voided their bladders after death, and he examined the body. The blue lips and cloudy eyes, scanning the area around him. Jeff’s arm was partially under the couch, and he got down on floor level, shining his flashlight to see if there were any defensive marks on his hand, a slight glittering catching his eye while the first cop on the scene recapped what had happened.

   “The mayor’s wife was the one to call 911. Apparently, she tried to reach her husband throughout the night, and she was unable to get a hold of him. Concerned, she drove up here and found Mayor Blake on the kitchen floor, barely breathing and uh, Milton Mamet next to him in the same condition. The back door was open when she arrived, and McCowin was already dead.”

   Daryl reached for a glove, yanking one out of the box that was sitting next to the body and he motioned for the officer to help him slide the couch out of the way. Underneath was a clear, plastic vial that was missing a top, and he grasped it by the tip as the young cop got him an evidence bag, handing it off to another detective. 

   “And Rick?”

   “He was nowhere to be found, and neither was the mayor’s boat. River patrol is currently on the water trying to locate it.”

   Rising to his feet, Daryl went into the kitchen, where the bottle of whiskey was already bagged and labeled, along with an almost empty jar of pickles. The deck that was just off the kitchen had a set of steps leading down to the yard, and he followed the gravel trail down to the docks. There were several sets of footprints in the soft, loamy soil, both leading up to the house and down from it. He easily picked out the shape of Rick’s boots, set heavily into the dirt, along with many others, and he bypassed them as he stepped up onto the wood, going all the way to the edge to peer out as far as he could see. 

   He was smart enough to know that everyone in that cabin thought that Rick had something to do with what went on here because he was gone. But it didn’t jibe with the guy that he knew. Rick didn’t do drugs. He drank, but that was his only vice, as far as he could tell. So, why would he dose a group of guys with GHB and just take off? No, it wasn’t adding up at all.

   Roughly an hour and several trips back and forth to the cabin later, the River Patrol came into sight, tethered to a smaller boat that bobbed behind it. The other officers gathered behind him, anxious to see that they brought back. For every foot closer they got, Daryl’s stomach dropped a little further because he couldn’t see any sign of Rick anywhere, and he knew, he knew down to the soles of his feet that something bad had happened. He knew it like he knew his own name, and when they docked he could see blood, thick streams of it along the edge. 

   “The boat was four nautical miles east, floating unattended,” one of the guys said, trying to get Daryl’s attention. “Hey, you can’t get on there, it needs to be processed.”

   He was in the boat before they could do anything, looking at the red smears up close, and he nearly let out a moan. There was a handprint, a streaking on that slide up the side and over. 

   “Did…did you find a body?” he rasped, feeling his throat start to close up, ignoring the continued protests to get back on the dock. “Did you find a body, goddamnit?”

   “No,” someone said, he wasn’t sure who. “No sign of anyone.”

   Daryl checked out mentally right then. He couldn’t be a part of this, and he got shakily back on the dock, stumbling towards the cabin. People were still moving around, trying to figure out what to do next, but he just wanted to get out of here, get away from everyone, until he saw someone that had no fucking right to be there, and his vision went from gray to red.

   “What tha fuck are you doin’ here?” he said, charging forward and getting in Shane’s face. 

   “He was my friend, asshole. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

   “Rick wasn’t your friend. Not since ya started fuckin’ his ex behind his back.”

   “I’ve known him for a lot longer than you,” Shane dipped his head, ready to strike him. “I want to help.”

   “Ya can’t help,” Daryl coughed, looking over his shoulder, unable to maintain the indignation that he was going for. “He’s gone.”

   “Gone?”

   “Fuckin’ dead, man. Gone. No body,” he choked out, walking away. “I gotta go.”

   He could hear Shane calling after him, but he didn’t stop, going down the long drive to his car and shutting the door, sitting there in a daze for several minutes. Daryl didn’t want to leave, because he knew what came next. The investigation, the smearing of Rick’s name until they had proof that he hadn’t done this. A cursory search of the area for any sign of his body. 

   But the part that was absolutely cutting him up inside was the fact that someone had to tell Jessica, and she deserved to hear it from him. Not Shane.

 

   He pulled into Rick’s driveway forty minutes later, wiping his eyes before he got out. Walking to the door felt like walking over a grave, and he knocked lightly, shifting from side to side as he heard her behind the glass, light footsteps getting closer, and he was about to wreck her world.

   She knew as soon as she saw his red eyes, the second she opened it a crack, the way that any spouse of a law enforcement official would know. It was a call or visit that they dreaded every minute of every day that their loved one wasn’t with them, and he reached out to catch her before she hit the floor. 

 


	28. Chapter 28

   Jessica stared out the window at Phillip and Andrea’s house as it came into view, hands clenched tightly together on her lap. She wasn’t sure she could even get out of the car, and she shut her eyes as her dad pulled into the driveway, trying to take a deep breath and failing, leaving her feeling like she was falling.

   “Jessie, honey, we’re here. “

   “I know, mom.” She opened her eyes, seeing her mother peering at her from the front seat, her face filled with sadness. Her parents had been stuck to her like glue over the past several days since they arrived, having received a call from Michonne, letting them know that Rick was gone. Jess couldn’t tell them herself. She’d barely been able to stay upright when Daryl showed up at her door, red-eyed and heartbroken. Before he said a word, she knew. She knew and she dropped to the floor with a cry, Daryl ending up there with her, hugging her as she lost her mind.

   Rick was gone. He was dead and she would never get closure, because he disappeared. Drugged by Jeff and so disoriented that he ended up on Phillip’s boat, drowning. As she sat on the hard floor, unable to move, he told her everything. How Jeff overdosed and put Blake and his friend Milton in the hospital. That there were signs in blood proving that Rick had been on the boat, plunging over the side into the water. That the River Rescue had done a perfunctory sweep of the river, unable to locate him, and her life was over.

   She wasn’t going to come back from this, ever. She didn’t see how she could. Her most fevered nightmares couldn’t come close to the kind of pain that she was in, and after sitting through the private memorial service at Trinity Church, now she had to be here, accepting condolences and platitudes on how life is hard, but everything happens for a reason, and every other cookie-cutter Hallmark card saying that was doled out by people that couldn't cut straight to the chase and tell you that your life was fucked.

   Carl, though, was holding up much better than Jess was. He was devastated, obviously, but when it came time to plan a service for his father, he came along with her, holding her hand and telling Reverend Fabian what he wanted said about Rick at his memorial, picking out the pictures that were to be put up, and driving her to the florist to select the flowers that were set around the display. All the while, Jess remained impassive, unable to articulate how…wrong it all was. The sun still rose every day and people went to Starbucks for their lattes, and she was struggling just to open her eyes and breathe.

   “If you don’t want to go in, sweetheart, we can leave,” her dad said, but she shook her head, opening the door.

   “Let’s just do this.”

   They were the first ones there, and Jess led the way, squaring her shoulders as she rang the bell. The door opened almost immediately, and Andrea pulled her inside, hugging her tightly as she let out a choked cry, like they hadn’t just seen each other an hour before. Phillip was hovering behind her, and he placed his hands on her shoulder in support, allowing them a moment together before stepping around them and welcoming her parents inside.

   “Please, make yourselves comfortable,” he told them, and Jess watched out of the corner of her eye as her mom and dad headed towards the living room, holding hands as they went.

   “What can I do, Jess?” Andrea sniffled, letting her go. “Anything?”

   “You’ve done enough. Thanks for having this here. I don’t think I would’ve been able to have everyone at my house.”

   Phillip blanched lightly, and he turned and left them, striding towards the kitchen. Ever since he got out of the hospital, he’d been blaming himself for what happened. Jeff was his friend, and his fingerprints were all over the vial that was found at the cabin. It wasn’t Blake’s fault, any more than it was Rick’s, and she wanted to tell him that she didn’t blame him, but the words wouldn’t come. She was too consumed with her own grief to try to alleviate his. Her pain and Carl’s were front and center, and it was all she cared about at this moment in time.

   There was already food delivered, tray after tray of every kind of sustenance known to man, and Andrea led her into the kitchen, bustling around and asking her if she wanted anything. Declining, she leaned against the counter as the doorbell rang, leaving just her and Phillip. He opened his mouth to speak, closing it almost as quickly, his chin jutting out.

   “Jess,” he finally sighed, rubbing at his jaw. “I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am about everything. I go over and over it all day and night in my head, just trying to see what I signs I missed, if I could’ve done something…”

   She swallowed heavily, gripping the marble behind her, wanting to know everything, every detail about what happened that night, but the words wouldn’t come, the fear that Phillip would tell her that Rick suffered or that Jeff hurt him before he died, and her eyes pricked with tears, prompting her to flee the room, seeking safety with her parents.

   Mourners started to trickle in as Carl, Lori, and Shane arrived, and Jess had to fight to not stare at Lori’s stomach, hyper-aware that she was pregnant, that she got her happy ending. The first one to approach her was Daryl, pulling her into a crushing hug as he asked her how she was holding up. He hadn’t come to the service, and she murmured softly that she was okay. Jess knew ahead of time that he wouldn’t be there, and though he had been at the house as much as he could be in the last week, she also was aware that he hadn’t given up hope of finding Rick.

   Trips to the cabin, researching everything about Jeff McCowin and trying to figure out where he got the drugs from. Obviously, Daryl knew he was suspect number one in the wedding incident, but he’d muttered under his breath once or twice that it was just too easy, too convenient. Jess vaguely recalled under the haze of her grief that there was nothing behind it, nothing to explain why Jeff suddenly started scoring GHB and dosing people that he supposedly cared about. No history of drug use, no brushes with the law. He went to work, dated a few women here or there, and spent times with his friends. That was it.

   Still, Daryl was hurting, maybe in a different way than she and Carl were, but he’d lost someone important to him, and if it helped him deal, then she wasn’t going to say anything, because no matter what, it wasn’t going to bring the love of her life back.

   Daryl stayed by her side in the living room as other cops came in one by one, offering condolences and stories about how Rick had touched their lives, and she thanked them, her chest aching when they shook Carl’s hand and told him how much he looked like his dad. Lori would let out a whimper or two, prompting Shane to kiss her cheek, and the other cops would include her in their sympathies.

   Deciding that she couldn’t stomach the other woman, a physical manifestation of every dream she would never have, she slipped out of the group and went to the back patio to get a second alone. It hit her right then when she gazed out over the lawn where they sat together just days before watching fireworks, that she was going to be alone forever. Rick wasn’t coming back. He’d never hold her again, never gaze at her with those blue eyes, the ones that saw into her heart and soul. They weren’t going to have a baby and they weren’t going to spend the rest of their lives together.

   She started to cry, something she’d done endlessly ever since she found out, but the level of sadness that she felt dwarfed everything that had ever happened to her or probably ever would. Strong arms circled around her as her head was bowed, turning her so that she could bury her face, and she did it without looking, grateful to have someone, anyone to hold her as she plumbed the depths of her sorrow.

   What she didn’t notice at first was the familiar cologne, but when it made its way to her brain, she pushed herself back to see that it was Negan who was out there with her, looking down at her with sad, red eyes.

   “Jess…”

   “What are you doing here?” she wiped her eyes, extricating herself from his grasp. Her nerves were frayed and she wasn’t sure how to take seeing him right now. Flashes of fear and anger from the wedding were still inside her, no matter what the police said about Jeff, and had she not just lost everything, she might have been able to rationalize the fact that he was innocent and a victim like her, but she couldn’t see past her own trauma, and not just where he was concerned.

   “I’m not here to upset you,” Negan gave her space, placing his hands behind his back. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I was. I can’t-“ he stopped abruptly, taking a shuddering breath. “I, uh…actually _do_ know what you’re going through, and if you need anything…I’m only a phone call away.”

   Jess blinked at him until it dawned on her that he was talking about Lucille. He was widowed, too, and though it didn’t soften her feelings, she nodded her head in thanks, walking past him to go back into the house, nearly bumping into the blonde woman that she’d seen him with at Phillip’s July Fourth party.

   “Excuse me,” Jess edged around her, spying her mom and dad talking with Carl. She nearly made it to them when Michonne and Mike came walking in, and she veered off towards her friend, seeking their comfort and strength. Negan made no more attempts to talk to her for the half-hour or so that he was there, and she happened to look up when he walked through the living room with his arm around the girl, shaking Phillip’s hand before the two of them departed. Daryl was standing next to her, and she could hear him breathing loudly, almost angrily, watching them the whole way.

   Jess, though, was emotionally and physically drained, and as people started to take their leave, she sat down on the couch, resting her head in her hands. Someone perched next to her, and when they put their arm around her shoulder, she looked up to see that it was Michonne, and she leaned against her, laying her head on her shoulder. Life shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be this unfair.

   Rick didn’t deserve this. _She_ didn’t deserve this. Why did everyone else get to be with the one they loved right now? Why not _them_?

   Michonne sensed that she was almost at her breaking point, and she motioned for Jessica’s dad, quietly recommending that they take her home. Her mom and Michonne each took an arm, getting her to her feet and escorting her to the door and out into the late afternoon sun.

   By the time she got in the back seat, she gave up, curling into a ball on her side, whimpering softly as they drove back to her empty house, where she would be alone, with only the memories of when she had everything.

 

 

     
   “Are you _sure_ there’s nothing I need to know?”

   Negan nearly bit his tongue in half, restraining himself from unleashing a torrent of cutting words towards Larissa as he drove. He didn’t do well being accused and questioned, especially by someone that he barely gave a shit about, and he sped up slightly, just wanting to drop her ass off and be done with her.

   “I told you, baby, she was just a friend. I mean, she just lost her husband for Christ’s sake. I was trying to comfort the woman.”

   Larissa brushed her fingers along the back of his neck, and he fought the urge to brush her off of him, but he made himself lean into it, reaching down to gently squeeze her knee in reassurance.

   “It just felt like you were more than concerned, Negan,” she pressed the issue, and she couldn't hide her envy. “I saw your face when she came in and that wasn’t the look of a friend.”

   “Larissa, Jesus _Christ_. Do you have any I idea the bad feelings this is bringing up for me? I mean, get a fucking clue. I lost my wife. She just lost her husband.”

   The words came out stilted and hostile, and he watched as she shrank back towards the other side of the seat, her lower lip trembling as red streaks formed across her cheeks.

   “I’m sorry, Negan.”

   Giving her the silent treatment, he drove back to her apartment, parking by the sidewalk and letting her sit in the deathly quiet, with not even the radio to break the tension, and after several seconds, she sniffled, putting her hand on the door handle to exit.

   “There’s nothing there, sweetheart,” he tossed her a bone, affixing a somber expression to his face as she searched his eyes looking for a shred of truth to console herself, to tell her that what she saw was a lie, and he gave it to her, because he needed her for a little while longer. “I pity her, because I know what she’s going through, and I think I should be there for her. And I need you to be here for me.”

   “I’m here,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck as he smirked behind her back. “I’ll do whatever you need, Negan, and I’m sorry.”

   “It’s okay,” he cooed, kissing her soundly for good measure. “I’ll take a rain check on tonight and call you tomorrow, okay?”

   “Of course,” Larissa was all too eager to please him, and she picked up her purse from the floor where it had fallen, stepping out of the car.

   “Thanks, baby.”

   As soon as her ass was inside the door, he reversed course, peeling out of her driveway and heading for home, loosening the tie around his neck and tossing it on the seat. Taking Larissa with him had been a calculated risk, especially with all of Rick’s friends and co-workers there. Hell, showing up himself was a crapshoot, since he wasn’t sure how Jess was going to react to seeing him. Phillip had invited him, since Jeff was obviously never going to get a memorial of his own, the fucker, and he’d told Negan as long as it didn’t upset the little bird, he was welcome to come and take solace with him and Andrea.

   And his heart, his beating heart nearly broke in two when he saw her, pale and drawn, wracked by grief. In fact, he’d nearly forgotten that Larissa was with him when he first got there, and almost pulled her out onto the patio with him unthinkingly, still holding her hand. Seeing Jessica by herself with her shoulders deeply rounded, staring off into the yard would haunt anyone, even him, and he put his arms around her without even stopping to think about how she would react to it. But she leaned into it for just a moment, and it was everything. It was the love he wanted, the peace that he wanted, all wrapped in sorrow that he’d take away, eventually. Everything he did was to make her happy.

   

   There were still a few clients in the front parking lot when he got back home, and he parked by the entrance, giving Mrs. Lahey a warm smile as he nodded to Olivia to send her back. Dwight had been picking up the slack for him over the past few days, and she was the last one scheduled for the day, so he dropped his suit jacket off in his office, meeting the old woman in room six to do her usual deep tissue massage. He half-listened to her as she went on one of her tangents, boring him with the drama over her daughter Janelle’s wedding, and he made sympathetic noises when appropriate, his mind elsewhere.

   Once she was on her way, he bullshitted with Dwight, grabbing a beer out of the mini-fridge in his office. The two went over the final construction plans of the spa, which meant that they were closing the building for a few days so the construction crew could finish the second floor, fixing their fuckups with the walls. He was anxious to get the fucking place up and running, and there was already a wait list for September’s grand opening. They were doing a soft open in August with only day appointments, and Dwight and Olivia had been put in charge of hiring staff. Monday morning, he was going to meet with the four new employees to go over his expectations for his business.

   After Dwight left, he answered a text from Larissa while he typed up itineraries for the new workers, finally shutting and locking his office when it got dark, changing his clothes before going into the kitchen and making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, whistling softly. Negan carried it in a plastic bag with a bottle of water, descending to the basement in bare feet, a little shiver going up his spine at how much cooler it was down here, even in the dead of July.

   Down the hall and around the corner, he pressed stop on the cd player that ran on an endless loop, not loud enough to be heard on the main floor, but background noise just the same. When he got to the blue door marked ‘Supplies’, he fished a key out of his pocket, setting the sandwich and drink on the stool, unlocking it as he picked up the bat that was resting along the wall.

   “Dinner time,” he called out in a singsong voice, opening the door slowly.

   Blue eyes squinted up at him from the corner of the room, and he tossed the sandwich and water on the floor, dragging the stool into the center of the doorway, perching on it with a smile.

   “Today was a good day, Rick,” he laughed, even as those blue eyes stared straight through him. “Your funeral was today. And I’m gonna tell you all about it.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, of course, Negan is a psycho and took Rick. Question is, will anyone ever find out?


	29. Chapter 29

   “Eat your fucking sandwich. I don’t like repeating myself.”

   Rick leaned forward slightly, touching the edge of the plastic bag with the tips of his fingers, dragging it towards the mattress and setting it on his lap. Negan may not like repeating himself, but the motherfucker loved to talk. About Jessica. And Lucille. Even Rick and their current predicament. There was no withholding of any information, because Rick was never going to get out of this room, according to Negan, and Rick believed it. 

   Negan was so far beyond what he’d thought originally that it was insurmountable. Though he’d held suspicions that the man had killed his wife, he didn’t have proof, and it was enough to deter him, so Rick had thought. But he was off the mark, so far off base that it landed him here, in a windowless room with no way to get free. Negan had laced the pickle juice at the cabin with drugs, because he knew Jeff would make them do shots. His own friend for years, killed with an extra dose and framed to look like he was the one that had been poisoning everyone. 

   There was no regret from Negan, no hesitation. It was a means to an end, designed to get Rick out of the way and have no suspicion on himself because he wasn’t there. It forced him to attempt to get free, to fight for his life to get back to Jessica to keep her safe. 

   He’d stopped trying after the third day, enduring multiple beatdowns and torture. Music playing at all hours, a bat to the legs, lights on and off so that he couldn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time. It had worn him down and worn him out, enough that he rarely ventured beyond the filthy mattress that was thrown in the corner for him to lay on in this stinking hole of a room. No windows and a steel door that stayed locked unless Negan was there. Worse than the death he thought he was meeting that night in the cabin, because his life was still in Negan’s hands.

   Opening the bag, he removed the sandwich as Negan leaned forward, letting the baseball bat dangle from his knees, taking a bite to show that he was compliant. Rick hated peanut butter, and it was just about the only thing that he was given, choking it down as he kept his head bent, hearing the other man breathing in and out steadily. 

   “Good?”

   “Yes,” he swallowed, unscrewing the water and washing it down since it had gummed up in his mouth. “Thanks.”

   “You hate saying that to me, don’t you?” Negan sneered. “’Thank you’. Fucking hurts, doesn’t it?”

   “Yes.”

   “How _badly_ do you want to kill me right now, Rick? On a scale of one to ten?”

   He finished off the sandwich, letting the bag flutter back onto the ground, and Negan waited, somewhat patiently for his answer. 

   “On a scale of one to ten, it would be at about a million,” he said, looking Negan in the eye, hating the smirk that never left his lips. “You’re psychotic, and it doesn’t just affect me…here. You’re a direct threat to Jessica.”

   “I’m not psychotic, prick.” Negan was extraordinarily calm, even though Rick had called him nuts before, with a different reaction. “Unlike you, I’m a man of my word, and when I make a promise, I for goddamned _sure_ follow up on it.”

   “And what happens to Jessica if she doesn’t do what you want? If she tells you to fuck off again. Are you going to kill her like you killed Lucille?”

   There was an immediate explosion of pain as the bat made contact with his left shoulder, sending him onto his side with a muted cry. It stung and throbbed, the searing heat from the impact, and he nearly started to sob, but Negan added a kick to his hip, making the injury twice as bad. It was enough to render him incapable of doing anything other than taking shallow breaths, and he curled himself into a ball.

   “You just don’t get it, do you, asshole?” Negan swore, squatting down next to him, thumping the bat against his temple. “Every time you try to rile me up and get me to kill you, you fail. I told you the night I took your ass out of the cabin, you’re alive because I _want_ you to be. And you’ll fucking rot in this cell until I get her back. You see, Rick,” he grabbed a fistful of hair, jerking Rick’s head so that they were inches apart, “I want you here when she falls for me again. I want you to _know_ when she’s back in my bed. I want you to fucking go to your _grave_ knowing that you couldn’t stop me from getting her back. You’re going to fucking choke on that last image, motherfucker.”

   Rick struck out weakly, trying to free himself from Negan’s grip, but it was futile, and his head was wrenched even further back, leaving his neck open and vulnerable, a heavy hand closing around his throat. “Your memorial was fucking sad, man. Jess and your son looked almost inconsolable, prick. _Almost,_ but not quite.”

   “Stop this,” he begged, reaching another breaking point, another level of desperation, but it fell on deaf ears. “Just stop.”

   “I like your son, Rick,” Negan’s voice took on a silky quality, even as his teeth shone in the dim light. “And I think you were right about Jessica not wanting this life, you know? She wants the home with the picket fence and the little rugrats running around. And I’m startin’ to see the appeal. Carl’s got a fire to him. I can take your son under my wing, and raise him right. Teach him not to be a pussy like his old man.”

    _No._ He couldn’t let this happen. His brain was screaming at him to rip Negan’s throat out, to watch him choke on his own blood, and as his body started to catch up, the adrenaline beginning to surge, Negan punched him in the face, stunning him, and he backed away, shutting the door and turning the music back on, drowning out his screams.

 

 

 

  
   Their bed was comfortable. It was soft and cozy, and it still smelled like Rick, all musky and woodsy, so Jess had cocooned herself there ever since the memorial, breathing it in and pretending that he was just away on a trip, bound to come back for just a while, until she knew that she couldn’t anymore. The smell would fade, the sheets would need to be changed, and all she would have left is the memories, and she clung to it for as long as she could.

   Michonne didn’t press her to return to work, and Andrea simply dropped off food for her, trying to make sure she ate at least somewhat regularly. Jesus made a care stop at least once a day, and her parents had flown back to Florida when Jess told them to leave. Flipped out on them, actually. They’d only been trying to help, to get her through the worst event in her life, but she didn’t want it. Jess didn’t want their pity or to be babied anymore. She just wanted to wallow in her pain, and she did, until Carl shook her out of it.

   The sixth day after the wake, she stretched out on the mattress, burying her face in Rick’s pillow as she wondered for the thousandth time if she’d ever get to really say goodbye to him. It was morbid, but without an actual body, a part of her, a really far away and dim part, kept the faint hope that he was actually alive. Logic ruled it out, obviously, but imagined scenarios ran through her mind as she rested her cheek on the spot that he always laid on when he was facing her. 

   Maybe Rick did fall from the boat. But he was always a strong swimmer, and he could’ve ended up floating down the river, washing up on some deserted bank, with no memory of who he was. 

    _Sure, stupid. And some fair maiden probably found him and brought him back to her cottage and is nursing him back to health._

   It only made her clutch the pillow tighter, fighting the tears that came like clockwork. Jess knew it was stupid and pointless, but she couldn’t help it. She was clinging to anything that she could by her fingertips, trying to keep herself invested in continuing to live, to not just give up, even though everyone else was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

   “Jess?”

   Rolling over, she forced her eyes open, starting slightly when Rick’s baby blues stared down at her, and she murmured his name, reaching out. But it wasn’t him. Slim fingers grasped back, and when she was completely lucid, she realized that it was Carl sitting next to her on the mattress, looking very worried.

   “Sorry,” she muttered, retracting her hand and scooting over, still holding the pillow. “I think I was dreaming.”

   “Jess, you gotta get up,” he said softly, trying to ease the covers from around her. “You can’t lay in here forever.”

   “I’m not bothering anyone, Carl,” she rolled over, shutting her eyes. “I can mourn the way I want.”

   “Yeah, you’re not mourning, Jess. You’re wasting away and Dad would be pissed if he was here.” The words were sharp, angry enough that she flinched away from him, the sickening heat of shame and defensiveness flooding through her body, and it forced her into a sitting position. 

   “He’s _not_ here,” she screeched, making Carl’s mouth drop open, the first real anger and release of feeling since she found out that he was gone. “He’s never coming back, so how the fuck could he be disappointed in me?”

   “Don’t you think I’m hurting, too?” The words were stilted and choked, and she really looked at him, for the first time in days. Carl’s skin was pale and chalky, and there were creases around his eyes that no kid his age should have. He was suffering, as much as she was, but he still got up every day and lived. He was forcing himself to keep moving and breathing and existing, while she was slowly turning to stone. “I don’t want to do this alone, Jess. My mom and Shane,” he stared at his hands, the two of them watching as his fingers clenched each other and released. “They’re sad, but they just don’t get it. Not the way you and I do. I don’t have anyone to talk to that understands what I’m going through. Enid is…unhelpful, and Lydia doesn’t seem to be sympathetic, strangely enough, even though her dad died, too.”

   Jessica ran her hands through her hair, coming away with a sticky film on her fingers, and she shuddered slightly. When was the last time she showered? Rick really _would_ be pissed right now, and she took a deep breath, easing the sheet down to her waist as Carl continued to stare down at his lap.

   “I’m sorry, Carl. I really am. This has just been…unbearable.” He looked up, sparking a little bit of a fight in her. “I never meant to shut you out, if you think that’s what I did.”

   “It’s okay,” he assured her, standing up and walking to the window, opening up the drapes to let in the light, making her squint. “I get it, but you can’t stay buried in this room anymore. So, get a shower, and meet me in the dining room.”

   Walking out, he shut the door behind him, and Jess sat there for a few minutes, looking around the bedroom. Her black dress was still laying on the floor, and a fine layer of dust had formed on the dresser, catching her eye. Heaving herself up, she had to brace her hand on the bedframe, getting dizzy from being vertical for the first time in a while, and when her head cleared, she stumbled into the bathroom, gasping when she saw her appearance. 

   Lank, stringy hair. Big, brown bags under her eyes, and a pallor that resembled a vampire’s, one who hadn’t fed in a while. Fucking gross. Suppressing the urge to vomit to complete the look, she turned on the water, cleaning herself twice and shampooing her hair, working the suds deep to dislodge almost a week of grit and grime. 

   When she dressed in Rick’s sweats and shirt, she pulled her clean and wet hair into a bun on the back of her head, walking slowly into the kitchen to see that Carl had ordered a pizza, setting to paper plates on the table along with glasses of water. 

   “I hope pepperoni’s okay.”

   “Thanks, Carl,” she sat down, letting him take the first piece. Since she’d barely been eating, only one slice was enough to make her feel almost sick to her stomach, and she pushed the plate away, swishing her mouth with the water to wash out the oily taste. The conversation was non-existent until the two of them stood up to put the rest of the pizza away, and he shocked her once again, and it wasn’t in a good way.

   “Uh, is it all right if I still come over sometimes?”

   “What?” she whirled around to face him, her eyebrows meeting in the middle. “What are you talking about?”

   “I mean, with Dad…not here. Is it okay if I still come around?”

   A part of her wanted to cry unabashedly, and the other part of her was hurt that he’d even feel that way. Dropping the pizza on the counter with a slap, she rushed over, throwing her arms around his neck and wrenching him towards her with a grunt. “This is your home, Carl, and you and I are a family. Always.” Jess felt her chest getting heavy, the combined grief of the two of them settling on her completely, as it should’ve been from the beginning. He shouldn’t have had to help make the arrangements for his father, and he certainly shouldn’t have been left to make his way through this new reality by himself. 

   “Don’t ever feel like you can’t be here. This is your house as much as it is mine, and nothing will ever change that. I’ll never stop loving you, either Carl, just like I won’t ever stop loving-“ she couldn’t get the rest of the words out, it was just too much, and they stood together in the kitchen, crying together to ease some of the pain. 

   When he finally left, it was with Jess still on her feet, standing at the door as he walked down the drive to his car, giving her a short wave before he drove away. She stayed there for a few minutes, watching the neighborhood kids as they rode their bikes past, enjoying the summer heat. Streaks of bright orange and purple were splashed across the sky, letting her get lost in her head. 

    _Rick._ She could feel him, somehow as life continued on, and it wasn’t going to be easy for her. There were going to be setbacks and pain on the horizon, but she owed it to him to try. She owed it to Carl. 

   The next morning, she woke up at seven, and her heart was beating unevenly as she stripped the bed, taking one last deep breath as she tossed the sheets in the washer. Her phone was still off as she laid out clean, white sheets, and she turned it on to send a text to Michonne to let her know that she’d be in to help out at work today. Strangely enough, she had a voicemail from an unknown number, and she pressed play, unprepared for what lay on it.

  _‘Hi, is this, uh, Jessica Grimes? You don’t really know me, but my name is Larissa Desmond, and I’m dating Negan. I know this sounds crazy, but I’m not really sure what to do. I’m a little afraid. Can we meet?'_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what happened to make Larissa reach out to Jess? Stay tuned to find out!


	30. Chapter 30

   Larissa handed the barista her credit card, paying for her latte and Jessica’s iced tea, shifting back onto her heels as she tried to remain calm. It was hard in the other woman’s presence, feeling both nervous and scared. It wasn’t just because she was harboring a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach about meeting up with her behind Negan’s back. She was also intimidated by her.

   Other women, outside of her friends had always made her feel inferior for as long as she could remember. Growing up overweight, Larissa had spent her youth being bullied and shamed for her size, with her mother as her biggest critic. Elaine Desmond had been a natural-born beauty, with willowy limbs and a stunning smile, and Larissa had never measured up in her eyes. From the time she was old enough to feed herself, she’d taken joy in food. It was comforting to her. It made her feel warm and happy, and the more she ate, the more her mother would look down on her. It was a never-ending cycle that she was unable to break until her sophomore year in college when she was invited to a fraternity party as a cruel joke.

   She, along with at least a dozen other girls were part of a hazing ritual by the new pledges, tasked with finding the most unattractive person that they could, graded on a scale for points. The boy who’d brought her, Trey Mattinson, had placed third, and it left scars on her that persisted to this day. Shame forced her to withdraw from her classes, slinking home to Elaine, who never once tried to comfort her or fight on her daughter’s behalf. Instead, she was told that she had to expect something like this to happen.

   “If you don’t care for yourself, Larissa, how can you expect others to? Change your life,” her mother sniffed, shutting the door to her room.

   Who treated their own child like that? A narcissistic sociopath, that’s who. Her father never stood up for her, preferring to remain out of Elaine’s line of sight, lest her scorn be directed his way, but it led to a seismic change in her life, sending her out on her own and away from the toxic environment that had shaped her warped view of herself.

   Two years later, she was as physically healthy as she’d ever been in her life and waiting tables at a chain restaurant to pay her way through college. Her dad sent her money monthly, but she refused to spend it, depositing it into a savings account. Elaine, since Larissa couldn’t bring herself to even call her _mom_ , probably didn’t know about the money, and they hadn’t spoken since the day she walked out of her parents' house.

   Larissa was still working on her mental health to this day, and she passed Jessica her drink as the two of them headed to a corner table, sitting across from each other in an awkward silence. Jessica was the first to break the ice, thanking her for the tea, and she smiled briefly, fiddling with the napkin dispenser, clearing her throat.

   “First off, I just want you to know I’m really sorry for your loss,” she said, meeting the other woman’s eyes, a lump forming in her throat at the visible pain that it caused her. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, and I hope my wanting to talk with you isn’t making it any worse.”

   “Thank you.”

   “I, uh, saw you at Phillip and Andrea’s Fourth of July party,” she took a sip of her latte, fighting the dryness in her mouth. “Negan and I have been dating for about two months or so, though I didn’t know much about you, other than the fact that he seemed to know you.”

   “I remember seeing you with him,” Jessica agreed, her hand going to her wedding ring, though she didn’t say anything else. Larissa didn’t blame her. This was an odd introduction to be sure, but she had to do this.

   “Um, anyway, that night, when we were together, he-“ Jessica’s face flinched, just slightly, and she stopped talking, giving her a chance to collect herself. “Sorry. Are you sure you want to do this?”

   “I’m sure,” she said after a slight hesitation.

   “Okay, well, while we were being intimate, he wouldn’t…look at me. It wasn’t unusual, but he mouthed something and at the time I wasn’t sure what he said, so I didn’t really let it bother me for too long. In fact, I flat out asked him if he was thinking of someone else, a huge deal for me, but he denied it, so I let it go, telling myself that I was looking for something that wasn’t there.”

   Sophomore year was looming over her shoulder, watering the seeds of doubt that always waited to bloom inside her, and Jessica shifted slightly, uncomfortable at the turn the conversation was taking.

   “I know I’m pretty much just vomiting words and thoughts all over you, but I have a point, I swear. This isn’t exactly easy for me,” Larissa told her, fighting back a lump in her throat. “I, um, didn’t have the best upbringing, which I won’t bore you with, but let’s just say that it led to a social and emotional assassination about five years ago, and I’m not sure I’ve ever really recovered.”

   “I’m sorry.”

   “The reason I bring this up is that when I met Negan, I was both enchanted by him and terrified that I was being set up all over again,” she told Jessica, lowering her voice as a young mom and toddler eased by the table, taking the spot behind them. “He’s really handsome, and he had the attention of every woman in the restaurant where I work. But he was looking at _me._ Talking to _me._ Treating me like he had to have me. He told me that he was widowed, and I felt…like I just wanted to make him happy. I wanted to be in his orbit for the rest of my life.”

   “Until?” Jessica gave her a sympathetic look, like she knew that it was all bullshit, and Larissa huffed lightly, her eyes watering.

   “Until the memorial.” It made the other woman blanch, and Larissa felt guilty for bringing it up. She didn’t want to burden the other woman with anything, but it had to be done. After the previous night, her world was wrecked, but if she could salvage anything from the devastation that she was feeling, then by God, she was going to do it. “I didn’t want to go, you know? I’d never really even met you, so the idea of coming to Andrea’s where it was just going to be…so sad and private, well, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but that’s what a good girlfriend does, right?”

   Jessica nodded weakly, and they stared at each other for a few seconds, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them.

   “Anyway, we walked into the kitchen, and you were out on the patio alone, and Negan practically dragged me out there because we were holding hands, and he dropped mine at the last second. I just stood there and watched as he hugged you, and there was just, this _look_ on his face. One that I’d never seen. Not directed at me, for sure.”

   Her phone buzzed in her purse, and Larissa reached in, checking it quickly as Jessica wiped her eyes discreetly, tossing the whole bag onto the seat.

   “When we left, I asked Negan if the two of you had a relationship, but he denied it.” Jessica shook her head, a faint smile flitting across her lips, and Larissa’s heart gave one last pathetic thump before dying out. “He turned it around on me, somehow, telling me that you were a person in pain, like he’d been, and he was just trying to support you.”

   “That sounds familiar,” Jessica drawled, her jaw tightening. “You’re not the first one to be manipulated by him.”

  “So you did date? Before you got married to Rick?”

   “Yeah, we dated,” she admitted, the words sounding hollow to Larissa. “Rick and I were together for a few years, and we broke up last summer. Stupid, really,” her eyes unfocused, a minor tremor making her lip shimmer as she stared through the past, probably. “I’d give anything to get that time apart back.”

   She blinked back the tears, making her eyes a bright grey, and Larissa swallowed down her own pain, knowing that this woman, a virtual stranger, was hurting more than she ever would. “I was like you,” Jess sniffled, the edges of her nose turning pink. “I thought Negan was amazing. Gorgeous and almost perfect.”

   “Until he wasn’t,” Larissa guessed, earning a knowing grimace. “What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

   “Shit, where do I start?”

   It threw her off, but it also didn’t, in a way, and she took a nervous sip of her drink, unsure if she really wanted to know, now, but Jessica launched into a diatribe, telling her about other women that he screwed behind her back. Hurting her during sex, whether intentional or not. Emotional manipulation, making her feel like she was responsible for his actions, and worst of all, the two of them being drugged at Phillip and Andrea’s wedding and ending in bed with no recollections.

   “I blamed him,” she rubbed unconsciously at her throat, turning the area blotchy as Larissa mentally cursed herself for bringing her more pain. “I believed wholeheartedly that he was behind it. But, Jeff-“ her words cut off, and Larissa reached out and placed her hand on her forearm, trying to offer her nonverbal support, and good vibes. “Still, I don’t…he wasn’t good for me. Rick was. He was my soulmate.”

   “I’m so sorry, Jessica. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel even more pain than you already are. I just…last night,” she retracted her hand, letting out a sobbing sound that made the young mother turn around with concern, and she placed her fingers over her eyes, scrubbing roughly at them. “I was over at Negan’s, and I took a sleeping pill. I use them a lot, because I have insomnia. Sometimes they work, and sometimes they don’t. But, last night, it didn’t.”

   “What happened?” Jessica asked after an appreciable pause, the words gentle and prodding.

   “Negan thought I was out, and I was trying, I really was, but I felt him get up. I assumed he was going to the bathroom or something, but he walked out of the apartment,” she took an unsteady breath, feeling prickles of unease up and down her spine. “He was gone for a few minutes, and I started to get worried, so I followed behind him, thinking he was…I don’t know…checking the locks or something. But he wasn’t on the main floor. The door to the basement was open, and I tiptoed down, thinking that he’d freak out if I scared him.”

   “And?”

   Larissa looked up at Jessica, who appeared ghostly white, and she wasn’t sure if she should even tell her.

   “He was just down there ranting. Like, screaming and carrying on, talking to himself, bringing up Rick.”

   “Honey, what did he say?”

   “That he loved _you_ ,” Larissa’s face crumpled, the reality of what she heard sending her into a full-on meltdown, and it spoke to how far gone she was that she didn’t even care that everyone in the coffee shop was staring. In fact, she barely even noticed that Jessica had come over and wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tightly. “He said that he’d _always_ loved you,” she hiccupped, “and now he was going to get you back, because you were _his_. You were always his, not Rick’s.”

   She cried out, sadly. She cried for the pain that she’d received from Negan, and Larissa cried for the sad, overweight girl that she still was inside, the one who died that night at the party, but still haunted her, begging to be put to rest. She was never going to be the one, not really. Not to Negan, and Jessica wrenched her face up, looking at her with red eyes. “We need to go. Come on.”

   A few minutes later, they were sitting in Jessica’s car, the air conditioning blasting as she wiped her face, embarrassed. “I owe you another apology,” she stuttered, staring out the window at the people walking in and out, not a care in the world. “My problems are nothing compared to yours.”

   “That’s not true. They’re just different, and I know that you’re in pain. I don’t blame you for being upset.”

   Twisting to the side, Larissa saw that she was genuine, and the dam broke again, sending her into a spiral of hurt and shame, the words tumbling out about that night years ago, how she was taunted and humiliated, the butt of a cruel joke. The entire time she spoke, Jessica listened quietly, letting her get it out, Negan’s betrayal the cherry on the shit cake that was her life. But Rolodex-ing it all was a sort of relief, a way to put it into a singular pile, and when she stopped to take a breath, she felt exhausted. Drained.

   “Thank you.”

   “For what?”

   “Listening, I guess,” she smiled sadly. “Not telling me that I’m sad and pathetic, or jealous.”

   “You’re not,” Jessica squeezed her shoulder, almost painfully. “Negan’s the asshole, not you. He always has been. But the question is, what happens now?”

 

 

  
  
   “Can I come in?”

   Negan looked up from his computer, rubbing his chin as Dwight hovered in the doorway, drying his hands off with a white towel. Nodding once, he closed the laptop as Dwight sat down on the chair across from him, leaning back in the seat.

   “Everything’s just about ready for the first clients next week. There’s just one minor issue.”

   “Which is?”

   “The woman, Shirley, that’s running the housekeeping department claims that there’s some sort of thumping sound coming from the basement. She can hear it in the laundry room. Do you want me to check it out?”

   Cussing internally, he shook his head, trying to act like it wasn’t a big ass deal. “Nah, I’ll go see what’s going on. What a fucking headache, man. This ‘going into major business shit’ wasn’t the wisest choice.”

   Dwight snorted, knowing that he wasn’t serious. Anyone that knew Negan was well aware of his ambition. Plus the fact that he couldn’t take orders from anyone, even when they were in school. He always questioned the instructors and made their lives a living hell. No way would anyone ever put up with his bullshit as an employee. “Head home and fuck that pretty wife of yours, D.”

   Why not? Negan already had, years ago. Not his proudest moment, for sure, but as long as Dwight never found out, no harm done.

   Locking his office, he strolled through the lobby, winking at Olivia, enjoying the way her cheeks pinked up and he headed down the opposite hall towards the laundry and kitchen area, stepping into the warm room where Shirley was folding towels. Even over the hum of the dryer, he could hear the muffled thumping of fucking Rick. It wasn’t steady, just a few taps here and there, and he touched the brisk woman on the shoulder, making her jump.

   “Sorry to startle you, sweetheart,” he flashed her a smile as she clutched her chest.    

   "Oh, it’s fine, sir,” she smoothed down her smock, setting the pristine pile of towels to the side. “How can I help you?”

   “Dwight mentioned that you were hearing some knocking sounds from the basement, so I thought I’d mosey on over here to see what’s happening,” he turned on the charm, putting her at ease.

   “Well, it’s just occasional,” Shirley gestured to the corner of the room, and he walked over, pretending to listen. The knocking stopped, resuming about two minutes later, and he huffed lightly, turning to give her a reassuring nod.

   “That would be the furnace,” he assured her, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call and get someone to come to take a look at it.” Negan placed his hand on her shoulder, patting her softly. “Thanks for keepin’ an eye out, Shirley. You’re doing an awesome job.”

   “My pleasure, sir. This place is going to be great.”

   “From your lips to God’s ears,” he said, sauntering from the laundry room. Motherfucking Rick. He had half a mind to just bash the prick’s head in right now, but he settled for heading down to the basement and knocking him the fuck out. Surprisingly, he didn’t even put up much of a fight, just dropping his hands as Negan clocked him in the jaw, sending him down to the concrete in a heap.

   “You...just…don't give up, do you, asshole?” he grunted, hauling the fucker onto the mattress. He had some rope stashed somewhere, shifting through random shit that was stored in the next room, coming back and tying up his bloody hands and feet, trussing him like a turkey. “Maybe now, you’ll keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

   When he went back upstairs, Olivia was packing up for the night, and he walked her and Shirley out, waving good-bye to the two women before locking the door.

   He needed to get his ass in gear and get some face time with Jessica. It had been a week since Rick’s funeral, and he wanted to push forward with his plan to win her back. Negan wasn’t stupid enough to think that she was just going to jump back into a relationship with him, but if he left Rick in limbo for too long, the chances that someone would inadvertently find out he was here would grow.

   Grudgingly, we went upstairs after turning out the spa lights, fixing him a sandwich and a bag of chips, carrying it back down with a water bottle. Rick was still unconscious, so he set the food down next to him in reach of his arms, figuring that the dipshit would be able to untie himself at some point during the night. “Don’t worry, Ricky,” he murmured, quietly enough that it wouldn’t rouse him. “I’ll come up with a better idea to keep your ass locked down tomorrow.”

   Since the Sanctuary was closed the next day, he made a list in his head of shit he was going to have to go and buy, all without making himself look like a fucking psycho. Chains, harnesses, and he reminded himself to pick up some more peanut butter, since Rick clearly fucking hated it.

   He was just walking up the steps to the apartment to jack off and eat some leftover Chinese when his phone went off, and he checked it, rolling his eyes when he saw a message from Larissa, explaining that she was a few minutes away. Christ, he wasn’t up for her right now, but he sent a flirty text, telling her he’d meet her by the back door.

   Sure enough, her little hatchback came around the corner shortly thereafter, parking near the garage. He gave her a little wave, which she didn’t return, and he headed out to greet her, thinking that at least he didn’t have to slap the salami alone tonight, when she pulled out a small grocery bag, avoiding his gaze.

   “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cook me a meal, darlin’,” he said, reaching out to peck her cheek, but she ducked out of the way, edging down the side of the car. “What’s wrong, sweet pea?”

   He took a good look at her, and he saw that she’d been crying. Larissa’s brown eyes were tinged with red, and there were splotchy patches on her cheeks. Fuck, she’d been really going at it, and he really didn’t have the energy to deal with her up and down emotions tonight.

   “I…I don’t think we should see each other, anymore. Here's some stuff that you left at my place.”

   Larissa refused to meet his eyes, and he stepped forward, trying to put his arm around her, but she held up her hands in warning. “I like you, Negan, but this just isn’t working for me.”

    _Fucking, fuck fuckity fuck._

 


	31. Chapter 31

   “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s going on?”

   Negan leaned his back against the side of her car, crossing his arms over his chest as Larissa held out his bag of toiletries from her place. He didn’t need this shit right now, not with so much up in the air, but he had to try to make this work.

   “It’s not that serious,” she said, still avoiding his gaze. “We’ve only dated for a little while, but I don’t see it going the distance. You’ve got a lot going on with the spa opening, and I’m still trying to find a job with my degree, and I’m drowning in debt. I just don’t think it’s the right time for a relationship.”

   “Bullshit,” he sighed, prompting her to look up, startled. “If you want to break up, you can at least do me the courtesy of telling me the truth, Larissa.” She bit at her lower lip to keep it from trembling, and he softened his stance, reaching out one hand to her, waiting. “Please come upstairs so that we can have a real conversation.”

   She nodded once, following behind him after he finally took the bag from her, tossing it on the counter when they reached his apartment. Negan poured them each a glass of wine, sitting in his recliner as Larissa perched on the couch, her eyes straying away from him as if there was some sort of forcefield around him.

   “Tell me what’s going on, baby.”

   “I like you, Negan,” she set the glass down on the table, resting her hands on her knees. “I care about you, but this just isn’t how I saw my life going.”

   “Meaning?”

   “You have so much going on right now, with the Sanctuary getting ready to expand, and…”

   “And, what, Larissa? ‘Cause it feels like you aren’t getting to the crux of the problem.”

   “I, uh…ran into Jessica at the coffee shop, and it made me realize-“

   Negan wasn’t sure what she was going to say because she stopped abruptly, edging away from him. “Please don’t be mad.”

   “I’m not mad,” he lied, trying to infuse calm to his words and demeanor. “I’m just curious about what the two of you had to talk about.”

   “She’s a nice woman,” Larissa told him, a little tremble in her chin betraying her true emotions. “I can see why you were drawn to her.”

   There was a strong urge to strike out at her, to bloody her face and shut her up forever. How fucking _dare_ she talk to his little bird about him? She was nothing, she meant _nothing_ to him. And the thought of her making Jess unhappy or showing her jealousy when he was trying to rebuild her trust in him made the rage boil in his blood and the lust take hold of his dick.

   “Honey, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but I told you that I just want to help her.”

   “I know that, Negan. I believe you. But you didn’t need to lie to me about having dated her before.”

   “I didn’t want you to be jealous.”

   “I would’ve been jealous, regardless, and it’s not something I’m proud of,” she sniffled. “But it made me realize that we’re just not compatible, and that’s okay. Besides, I think you’ve got enough on your plate right now.”

   “So, I don’t get a say in this?” Negan inched forward, placing on of his hands on hers, roaring internally when her face turned pink, a tell-tale sign of her arousal. “You’re just allowed to make a decision that affects me, sweetheart, and I don’t get to try to change your mind?”

  “You can’t,” Larissa gently plucked his hand off of her knee, setting on the cushion of the couch, though her eyes fluttered shut, and he knew he’d at least be able to get her to spend the night. He let her wax poetic for at least ten minutes, trying to talk the both of them into her decision, but if he could convince her to stay, he’d be halfway there to keeping her around for a little while longer. “Maybe later on, when you’re sure of what you want…”

  Negan’s fingers brushed against her thigh, sending a tremor through her muscles, and he crouched down in front of her, easing himself in between her knees. “Okay, baby.”  
The words made her eyes snap open, her pupils wide and black. “Just give me one more night, then, and I’ll leave you alone.”

   “Negan, it’s not that I want you to leave me alone,” she was on the verge of tears, her resolve wavering as he ran his fingers along the outside of her legs, skimming her hips and brushing the outer swell of her breasts. “I just know what’s right for me, and I need a break.”

   Her mouth parted open, sending hot breath across his face, and he ran his nose up and down in the cook of her neck, testing her defenses with his tongue. God, she always did taste good. “For old time’s sake, baby.”

   Larissa was putty in his hands, giving in almost immediately and throwing her arms around his neck, pressing her chest against his. Emboldened with power and desire, not only for her body but because he always came out on top, he picked her up easily, carrying her to his bed and setting her on the mattress where she melted backwards with a gasp.

   Like taking candy from a baby.

   Her bronze skin was pliable under his touch, allowing him to strip her panties off in short order, and he hiked her skirt up to her waist, leaving her bare on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure, sweetness?”

   “One more time,” she agreed, helplessly, but giving him the go ahead, and he spread her thighs, planting a kiss on each one. Fuck, she was breaking up with him, but her pussy was drenched, and he spread her lips, tracing the opening with his index finger, watching in amusement as she twitched in want and blatant desperation. “One more,” she begged, crying in earnest when he finally granted her a taste of what she was trying to leave behind, swiping his tongue up and down.

   She was bucking against his face after just a few minutes and digging her fingers into his scalp, even as he lapped at the tangy sweetness that emanated from her. Yeah, she may not be Jess, but Larissa wasn’t so bad in retrospect, and he pressed harder, closing his lips around her bud, using his middle finger to stroke her insides, letting her ride the crest of the wave of pleasure that he was giving to her.

   “Please,” she whined as she came down, trying to pull him on top of her. “Negan, please.” Oh, how he loved to hear her beg, when her cheeks were flushed, and her chest mottled with color. “One last time.”

   “Look at me, baby,” he purred, yanking her dress down past her tits, her fleshy pink nipples just aching to be touched, and he blew on them lightly, making her back arch.

   “Are you sure?” She was dazed underneath him, all frustration and longing and sadness, and it was delicious, just fucking dreamy. “Do you want this, one last time?”

   “Yes.”

   “Yes, _what?_ ” He enjoyed teasing her, making the plains of her body clench up in frustration, her golden brown eyes belying a hint of anger, which she tried to keep hidden from herself, and she jammed her hand between them, stroking his rock hard dick, his weak spot. It made him bow his head against her neck for just a second rocking his jean-clad cock into her hands until he regained control of himself. “Yes, what?”

   “Yes, _Negan_ ,” Larissa grit her teeth, shutting her eyes, giving up so that she could give in, and he ratcheted up the caresses, the licks, the touches, ripping her dress into pieces, the whimper she made as alluring as the hot, wet, silk between her legs. “Fuck me.”

   Happy to oblige, Negan undid his pants with her help, getting them just past his knees before he rammed himself into her, swallowing her moans with his lips and tongue, using the rhythm of his hips to keep pace with his mouth, soaking up pure dedication and devotion and divine tightness. Yes, she’d come around, especially when he twisted his cock just so, earning a gush of liquid that coated his thighs, sending him to a frenzied state and he locked her hands in his when he came, moaning into her neck, her chest, her stomach, and her rhythmic clamping making it so…earned. He fucking earned this, and Larissa wasn’t going to deny him ever again. When he wanted her, she’d strip bare for him. And when it was time for her to move the fuck on, well, she’d do that, too.

   Rolling to his side, he brought her with him, kicking at the jeans that sat on his ankles, wrapping her up in his embrace even as she stiffened up. “Spend the night, baby. Then we can say our goodbyes in the morning.”

   Larissa let out a weak sob, and he kissed the top of her head, surer than shit that there would be no ‘goodbye’. As he came down from the high of a really good fuck, Negan drifted off to sleep, still holding her, but dreaming of a day when Jess would be the one lying with him.

 

 

_‘No one will ever care for you unless you care for yourself.’_

_She tried walking away, down the corridor of the grey hall with the grey doors and the bad feelings, but the voice just trailed after her._

_‘Why don’t you care about yourself, girl?’_

 

   Waking with a gasp, Larissa looked around the darkened bedroom with a foreboding feeling. Negan was laying on the bed with his back to her, the sheet across his hips as he let out a sleepy sound. She wasn’t sure how deeply he was out, but the urge to retreat to lick her wounds was pressing down on her just like Negan’s body had only hours before.

   She’d come here with a plan and failed. Her only intention when she’d shown up at the Sanctuary was to end this pointless, painful relationship. To hand him his things and give him a simple enough excuse to extract herself from his grip. He was extremely busy, and she was still trying to find a job in her field, astrobiology. It would be much easier if she left Atlanta, and now that there wasn’t anything really keeping her here…

   Laying on the edge of the bed, she listened to Negan breathing, filled with a sorrow that latched itself onto the scared, little fat girl inside her. It wasn’t a trick. It _was_ a trick. He didn’t know that she knew the truth about Jessica, and she didn’t want him to ever know. Which is why she needed to get out of here before the mere thought of him made her question herself like she already had. He had a sensual and confusing way about him, making Larissa unable to distinguish what she wanted from what she needed.

   Once she was out of his space, she wouldn’t need to see him again. If she showed up at her apartment, she could just refuse to open the door. Phone numbers could be blocked, and the restaurant could put him on the ‘do not serve’ list. It would be like he’d never been a part of it at all.

   So she laid there for at least another hour longer, carefully easing herself off of the mattress and holding her breath, waiting to see if Negan was going to move, but he didn’t. Nothing but the slow inhale and exhale of his chest, even as she picked up her torn dress, balling her undergarments in her fist. All the while, there was no stirring from the man on the bed, just the steady rise and fall of his body, so she backed carefully out of the room, shutting the door almost all of the way.

   Her purse was still on the couch, and she stood over it, doing her best with the remnants of her dress, putting it on backward so at least her chest was covered up. Berating herself, she tiptoed out into the hall and down the steps, praying that the sound of her car starting up wasn’t enough to wake Negan. But a distant thumping sound made her pause on the ground floor, trying to figure out what it was. For two months, she’d been coming here to the Sanctuary, but she’d never heard anything like this.

   Abstractly, she thought it might be the furnace or something, but the sound would stop and start, picking up in intensity while she waffled over checking it out or not. It wasn’t like she was in a hurry to go back down there, not after the harsh reality check she got the last time, but she crept forward, setting her purse and lingerie on the ground, following the knocking sound to the basement door.

   It stopped again, long enough that she started to walk away, but then the tapping picked up in intensity, and like every bad decision ever, her curiosity got the better of her, and she turned the knob, the door sliding open with a slight squeak. Dimly, she could hear a radio playing down in the darkness, and Larissa took careful steps, feeling her way until she reached the bottom, the radio and the pounding both coming from the left.

   With one hand, she scraped along the wall, finding a light switch and flipping it, blinking rapidly in the sudden light. Negan’s basement was dull and cold, and a sinking sensation washed over her as she crept along the same path as she did previously, only this time, Negan wasn’t waiting on the other side to break her heart. There was just that endless, sad knocking, and she followed it around the corner and to the left again, coming onto the radio that was playing.

   Larissa turned it off, thinking that it had been left on accidentally, and as soon as she did, the tapping stopped as well, making her freeze in place. A shiver went up her spine as she noticed a wooden stool at the end of the hall next to a metal door, a baseball bat leaning against the frame.

   “Hello?”

  She didn’t know why she called out, she just did, and a shudder rippled through her when she heard a faint voice waver from behind the metal door.

   “Is- is someone there?”

  It was like she was drawn to the metal structure, smacking up against it without even realizing that she’d made her way over to it, pressing her palm onto the cool material.

   “Hello? Who’s in there?”

   “My name is Rick-“ the voice was weak and trembly, and Larissa’s legs started to shake, sending her vision into a precarious tone. No. _No_.

   “R- Rick? Rick Grimes?”

   She waited for confirmation, trying vainly to get the knob to open, and when he verbally assured her that he was, in fact, Rick Grimes, she let out a terrified sob, leaning her head against the door. He was alive, and Negan had him. It made her stand up straight as she petted the door, breathing unsteadily. She had to get him out of here. She had to get _herself_ out of here, so that she could call the police.

   “I’m going to get you out, Rick, I promise,” she said, hearing a sob of anguish behind her fingers. “Just hang in there a little longer. I’ll call the police as soon as I’m out of here.”

   “Be careful,” his words were muffled, and she took a step back. “Negan’s crazy.”

   She was just now realizing that he was right. If Rick was here, it was because Negan brought him here, which meant that he’d staged an entire death scene. He killed his own friend, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.

   But when she turned around, the shriek made its way up her throat and out of her mouth as she slammed herself up against the door, Rick pounding on it in frustration.

   “I really wish you hadn’t come down here, sweetheart,” Negan said, advancing towards her as she went into a state beyond terrified. “I don’t want to do this, but you’ve given me no choice. You brought this on yourself.”

   His hand struck out, slamming her head into the door, and she slumped to the concrete, unconscious as Rick continued to carry on behind her.  



	32. Chapter 32

   Negan ran his fingers along the edge of the table, smoothing down the white material, noting a few faded stains just beyond his water glass, cursing under his breath. He wanted this to go perfectly, and it was already fucking up.

   When he got the text from Jessica that she’d like to meet, it was his happiest moment in months, making every pain in his ass for the last thirty-some-odd days worth it. Rick Grimes was obstinate, annoying, and not worth the fucking effort to keep alive that Negan was putting into getting his little bird back, but he was committed now, and come hell or high water, he was going to see his plan through, even though it would be much easier to just put a bullet in his head at this point and dump his body, especially with Larissa nosin’ her ass around his basement.

   “Sorry, I’m late.”

   Looking up, he saw her winding her way between tables, and he stood up, that old familiar yearning in his chest as they made eye contact, and Negan eased around to the side, holding out her chair, getting a whiff of fresh strawberries from her shampoo, making his heart thump wildly. “It’s not a problem.”

   She was here. Jessica was really fucking here, and it was beautiful and glorious and he wanted to fucking hold her and kiss her, make her forget that Rick fucking Grimes ever existed.

   Belatedly, he realized that he was still standing there like a fucking creep, and he sat back down, laying his napkin on his lap.

   “I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me,” she said, mimicking his movements.

   “I-“ biting back his words, he amended them on the fly, and she didn’t seem to notice. “It’s not a problem at all.” He wanted to tell her that he’d do anything for her, but he knew that it would ruin the fragile meet up that was happening, and she nodded once.

   “Good evening, and welcome to Rosa’s,” a waiter appeared to the right, clapping his hands together softly. He was a young kid, dressed in a pair of black pants and a white button-down shirt. “I’m Jacob, and I’ll be your server tonight. Have you dined with us before?”

   Both said yes, and he gestured to the menus that were sitting in front of them. “Did you have any questions about the specials?”

   They didn’t, and he took their drink orders, disappearing as quickly as he’d shown up. It left an awkward, stifled silence, but before he could ask her how she was doing, Jess took a deep breath, figuratively knocking him on his ass.

   “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

   “ _Me_? Why?”

   “Uh, well, it’s not a secret that you and I have had some painful interactions over the last few weeks of our relationship,” Jess told him, looking in his eyes, “and I blamed you for a lot of things that as it turned out that you didn’t do.”

   “Here you go,” the waiter set down her Diet Coke, and a tea for him. “Do you need a few more minutes, or are you ready to order.”

   Jess glanced at the menu still sitting in front of her, asking for the salmon, and Negan ordered a steak, rare. The waiter assured them that they were excellent choices, leaving them alone once again, and Negan waited until she gave him her attention, offering her a rueful smile.

   “You don’t have anything to apologize for, Jess. I did enough unforgivable shit during our time together that I really couldn’t blame you for thinking that I’d be that heinous. It’s water under the bridge.”

   “Thank you.”

   '“So, is that the reason that you wanted to see me? To ease your conscience?”

   “Partly,” she admitted, taking a sip of her drink, and he followed suit, adding a few packets of sugar to sweeten it more. “I just…I’m struggling, Negan. I’m struggling with all of this, and I was wondering if you had any insight as to why Jeff would do…what he did.”

   Negan debated on whether or not to feed into her insecurities or to just throw her a fucking bone so she wasn’t suffering as much. There was so much pain and sorrow on her face, bleeding into her posture and her fucking aura, and he wanted to start to fix her, to repair the damage that he’d willingly inflicted on her just so they could start again.

   “I knew Jeff for over twenty years, and I can honestly fucking say I had no idea that he was into drugs. I mean, not anything hardcore,” he told her. “Just some pot now and again, and it never would’ve occurred to me that he was the one that spiked our drinks at the wedding. I mean, I’m not even sure he was there at the end of the night. So, to find out what he did at the cabin, it’s fucked up. There’s nothing fucking funny or amusing about drugging your fucking friends. Jeff never came across like that. I wish I had an answer for you, Jess, I really do.”

   “My friends are hovering, waiting for me to lose it again. It was bad, after,” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “It still is, I mean, but they don’t understand. They’ve never lost someone that they loved. Not like I have. Not like you.”

   Negan’s widened for just a second, fucking terrified that she knew what he’d done, but it dawned on him as she swallowed hard that she was talking about Lucille. They were both widowers, and she was reaching out for help, for understanding. It was easy to dredge up those memories.

   “Yeah, welcome to the shittiest group in the world,” he laughed crossly. “The ‘Untimely Widowers Club’ ranks right up there, I tell ya.”

   Had it been anyone else, Jess probably would’ve coldcocked them for being so flippant, but she gave him a commiserating smile. “It feels like living in a bubble,” she said, grabbing a piece of bread from the basket, adding a generous amount of butter to it and ripping off a piece, chewing slowly. “Like, I can see everyone else and they can see me, but we’re separated by something.”

   “I know exactly what you’re talking about. Everything is just slightly off, right? Because something will happen during the day, and you go to call them, but you realize at the last second that you can’t do that anymore. And your friends feel bad, but they don’t get it. Their loved ones are still here. They may think about you right before they fall asleep, or say a prayer for you every night, but their life goes on.”

   Jacob carried their plates out, setting them down with a flourish, and Negan thanked him, eyeing Jessica’s salmon to see if it met with her approval, and she offered the kid a smile, sending him on his way. They ate in silence until they were about halfway done, and she set her fork down, taking a long drink before dropping what she probably thought was a bomb in his lap.

   “I met Larissa, officially,” she said carefully, watching his reaction, and he smiled, appearing at peace with it. “She’s a very sweet girl. I’m happy that you found someone.”

   “Yeah, she told me. She’s great,” he agreed. “I really care about her.”

   “But?”

   She knew him as well as he knew her, and she waited for the other shoe to drop, and he saw a tiny bit of relief in her eyes when he told her, making him positive that he’d done the right thing.

   “We’re taking a little break right now.”

   “Why?”

   “Larissa’s life has gotten…complicated,” he leaned back in his chair, lifting his hand and signaling for the kid, asking for a Scotch. “She’s trying to find a job in her specialty, plus with her dad getting sick and needing help. And now with my spa just a week from opening up, fucking finally, it’s not leaving us a lot of time for each other. Larissa wanted to get some time away to see if what we have is able to withstand everything we’re going through, and I’m not happy, but I agreed to do it.”

   “Wow.”

   “What?” Jacob sat the glass down, and Negan took an appreciative sip, licking his lips. He carefully avoided Jessica’s stare as she took another bite of her salmon.

   “You’ve changed,” she said, and she was sincere, he could feel it. He could also feel a minute hint of regret because she was undoubtedly wishing that he’d been as progressive with her. “It’s…nice to see.”

   “I’ve actually grown the fuck up. I care about something more than myself. _Someone_ more than myself, and I’d like to see if things can go the distance with her. But first, I need to get through this assload of responsibility I’ve foisted on myself.”

   When the kid dropped off the check, Jessica, who’d been pretty subdued for the rest of dinner, took it, protesting mightily when Negan snatched it out of her hands, and it was so reminiscent of that first night at B’s, when he rolled in on his cycle, rescuing her from that asshole Gregory, that he started to laugh, reminding her. Fuck, he’d give anything to go back to that night, that first kiss when it set his fucking body on fire and his brain into overdrive.

   It took a fucking constitution of steel to drop it at that, and she thanked him for dinner, the two of them stepping outside into the balmy air. Negan could still smell strawberries, the subtle scent catching on the light breeze, and his body struggled to keep from putting his arm around her and pulling her into his side so that he could nuzzle at her neck. Instead, he walked her to her car, letting his own keys dangle in his hand, and Jess leaned up against the door, looking up at him.

   “Thanks, again, for meeting with me. It helped.”

   “I want us to be friends, Jess. If you ever need anything, I’m only a phone call away.”

   “I’d love to see the spa, if it’s not too much trouble.”

   “Come by tomorrow after work, and I’ll give you the grand tour. It the least I can do, since you’re so much a part of helping me get it up and running. There are a few things I’d like to show you.”

   As she drove away, he stood next to the empty parking space, watching the brake lights as they blended into the evening traffic, filled with confidence that it was only a matter of time, and she’d be his again.

 

 

 

   When she was out of sight of the restaurant, Jess let out the breath that it felt like she’d been holding for at least an hour. She’d had no idea if she was really going to be able to go through with this, but she did it, and she even forgot for a few seconds here and there that Negan was evil.

   She pulled off into a department store parking lot, reaching for her phone and dialing the most recent number, listening to it ring four times before going to voicemail. “Call me, now,” she said, tersely, pressing the red button and pulling back out into traffic. Her thoughts were a mess, and she waffled on whether or not to call Larissa, talking herself out of it after a long, internal debate. When they’d parted two weeks ago at Starbuck’s, they’d agreed to maintain radio silence so as not to arouse Negan’s suspicions, but it gnawed at her. She wanted to make sure the young woman was truly okay.

   The story Negan told her about Larissa wanting to take a break sounded accurate, what they’d talked about, all except for her dad. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Jess about her dad being sick. Frankly, Larissa didn’t have a relationship with her parents, from what she’d told her in that epic meetup, so for her to possibly leave town to take care of him just didn’t jibe with the impression that Larissa had given her.

   Still, as long as she was safe, it was better for her to be out of town.

   Instead of heading home, she drove to her old apartment, parking behind Aaron’s truck and pressing the buzzer. Jess was let in after a few seconds, and she headed down the hall to where the door was hanging open, walking in to find him and Jesus snuggled up on the couch, covered with a blanket.

   “It’s like ninety degrees outside,” she tossed her purse on the table, plopping down in the recliner that had been added to the living room furniture.

   “Snuggling’s better with a blanket,” Jesus sniffed at her, laying his head on Aaron’s shoulder, who was clearly sweating, bless his heart. “Where were you?”

   “I had dinner with Negan.”

   Both of them shot off the couch like it had been tasered, arguing with her at the same time as she looked between the two of them, finally screeching for them to shut the fuck up. Jesus was scandalized at the outburst, slapping his hand over his heart like Fred Sanford, and she took a deep breath, calming herself down. Before she could tell them why, her phone rang, and she held up her finger for them to pipe the fuck down, answering it and getting a gruff sound in her ear as a reply.

   “He’s on his way home,” she said, listening to him breathing heavily in between sounds of cicada singing in the night. “What did you see?”

   Aaron and Jesus knelt down in front of her, straining to hear the other side of the conversation, and she glared at her friends, warning them to keep quiet.

   “You were right,” Daryl said, sounding pissed. “There are cameras all over the outside of the building, now. I have no way to get past ‘em without having someone that can disable ‘em.”

   “Well, hold tight, because I’m going to be doing a little recon tomorrow. Negan invited me to see the new spa, and I’ll be able to check everything out when he gives me the tour.”

   “No,” Daryl was insistent that she stay as far away from him as possible, but he wasn’t her husband, and he wasn’t her daddy, so she was doing it whether he wanted her to or not, and she let him, and Jesus and Aaron know as well.

   “He knows something, Daryl. He’s hiding something. I can feel it. Jeff was a fucking red herring. Somewhere in that factory is proof that he’s behind all of this, and I’m going to find it, with or without your help. While I’m playing nice tomorrow, you’re going to reach out for someone that’s willing to help you ‘off the books’, so that you don’t get into trouble.”

   “It don’t work like that,” Daryl was getting irritated, and it was harder to understand his twangy accent, so she put it on speaker phone, giving her some space from the hover twins. “Besides, if he’s still so obsessed over ya, having you in his place is just gonna encourage the psycho fuck to pursue ya.”

   “If that’s what it takes, then that’s what it takes,” Jess said mildly, avoiding Jesus’s death glare. “I would do anything, and I mean _anything_ to find out the truth about Rick. I need this, Daryl,” the emotion was working its way through her, and she felt the familiar pain of his loss, that bubble that Negan correctly guessed about. She needed to be free of the questions of why Jeff was clearly framed and if Negan did in fact, murder her husband. She had to know. She had a right to his body, and she wanted it back. “Please,” she sniffled, reaching out for a tissue from Aaron’s outstretched hands. “I’ll do the recon tomorrow and you find some sort of computer hacker or expert at breaking and entering, and then we’ll be able to get some traction.”

   “For fuck’s sake-“ he hung up in her ear, and she stared blankly into Jesus’s eyes, not noticing that they were getting closer until he dragged her onto the couch, covering her with the blanket, and she cried into his chest with Aaron holding her from behind.

   “Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” she asked, buried in his neck, and he hummed softly as an answer. It was probably the only one she was going to get, so she took it.

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay, but...writer's block and stuff. I hope this nice, longer (for me) chapter makes up for it. )

   “It was great to see you again, Mrs. Conroy.”

   Jess handed her back her credit card, and Aaron wheeled out her newly purchased painting, following behind the woman with a raised eyebrow, neither one of them able to understand how she was wearing a fur coat in August. But then again, it wasn’t like rich people toiled outdoors with the rest of them. They probably went from an air-conditioned mansion to a nice, cool chauffeur driven car.

   When he came back, Aaron shook his head, showing her the crumpled five dollar bill that Mrs. Conroy gave him as a tip, and Jessica’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Hey, it’s better than nothing.”

   “True.”

   They spent the last few minutes that the gallery was open straightening up and putting out the new stock, and Jess took an odd pleasure in sweeping the floor, directing the dust into a tidy little pile, and she squatted down, scooping it up in the dustpan and tossing it into the trash. As she put the cleaning supplies back in the storeroom, she checked the time, anxious to get over to the Sanctuary.

   Aaron and Jesus had spent the previous evening trying to talk her out of going, but nothing was going to change her mind. After meeting with Negan to fish for information, she was surer than ever that he had a hand in what happened at the cabin. Jeff was dead, Phillip and Milton had ended up in the hospital, and Rick…

   Her ring was still on her finger and would be until the day she died. Not having Rick there, knowing that someone did him wrong had turned her grief into anger and the need for revenge, along with answers, and if it needed to be a confession from Negan, she’d do anything to get it. Jesus cautioned her that Negan would probably never stop trying to win her back, and she was banking on it. It would get her access to his property, and she planned to make full use of it.

   The tricky part was not arousing his suspicion. Jess was in mourning, probably for the rest of her life, so it wasn’t realistic for her to just set that aside, not that she would. Negan needed to believe that she was just looking for friendship, which he’d offered to her. But if she kept leaving little bits of opportunity and hope, she’d be able to direct his attention the way _she_ wanted it to go. The entirety of their relationship had been manipulated by him, and now she was turning the tables.

   Jessica Grimes was taking control of her life and her future, and Negan wasn’t going to ever fuck it up again. The best thing that could happen was for him to end up in jail, and knowing that it was her that put him there. She wanted him to spend the rest of his days rotting, thinking about what he took from her, and what she took back from him.

   Aaron walked her out, locking the gallery doors, and he kissed her on the cheek, urging her to check in with him and Jesus when she got home. She promised him that she would, taking a deep breath when she got behind the wheel. The reflection looking back at her in the rearview mirror was pensive and determined at the same time.

   As she drove, she took a call from Carl, flat-out lying to him about what she was doing for the evening.

   “I thought Michonne was out of town?”

   “She got back early,” Jess said, scanning the horizon as she drove. It was still early in the evening, the sun at least an hour or two from setting, and Carl seemed to buy it. “I’m going to meet her and Mike for dinner to go over some work stuff, but I’ll text you and let you know when I’m home if you want to hang out.”

   “Thanks, Jess, but it’s Saturday night,” he reminded her. “I’m going out with Enid.”

   Carl and Enid had gotten back together a week or so ago after a heart-to-heart talk, and as for now, it looked like Lydia was out of the picture. Jess had urged caution, as Enid was still hurt by the sudden breakup, but Carl assured her that he wasn’t going to be the one to end things ever again. Lydia was a sweet girl, but Enid was more suited to him, and Jess had to agree.

   “Right,” she sighed, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Saturday night’s date night.”

   “We can come over and see you instead,” he told her, probably worried that she was going to take to her bed again, but she laughed him off, eager to assure him that she was fine.

   “I’m just reminiscing about my younger years,” Jess said. “I remember the fun of Saturday nights when I was your age. I’m fine, Carl. Go with Enid and see a movie or something. I’ll just check in when I get home so you don’t worry. But if you want to come over for lunch tomorrow, I’ll whip us up some food.”

   It seemed to placate him, and she set her phone back in her purse after they hung up. The nerves that she was able to keep at bay while on the phone with him started to come back, brought on by turning onto Industrial Road. Jess was struck all at once by the stupidity that she carried with her at all times. She’d never be in control of her relationship with Negan, so why did she think she’d be able to do this? If this man was capable of lying to her, using her and drugging her, not to mention framing someone that was supposedly his friend to harm Rick, how in the actual fuck was she going to be able to help bring him down?

   The thought alone was disturbing enough that she had to pull off to the side of the road and take several deep breaths, her attention drawn to her wedding ring. Strangely enough, she realized that she hadn’t cleaned it in a while, and she removed it, holding it up to the sunlight, watching as it glittered dully. It was a symbol of their marriage, nothing more, but to Jessica, it was the last tangible thing she had of Rick. He’d loved her, truly, and now it became a beacon, a talisman that signified everything she’d ever wanted, everything that had been taken away from her.

   If she didn’t do this, who would? Daryl, for sure, but the odds were against him getting any proof. He would never be able to get into the Sanctuary to investigate, because there was no reason to believe that Negan had anything to do with Jeff’s death, nor Rick’s. He hadn’t even been on the trip, and Daryl would end up laughed off the force if he even suggested it. The only way into Negan’s private building was through her, and Jess brought the ring to her lips, breathing heavily on it and brushing it against her shirt before kissing the gem, slipping it back onto her finger.

   She could do this. She _needed_ to do it, and she allowed herself a few minutes more to calm down before pulling back onto the pavement, letting the blood pulsate through her body, even as she noticed that the trees around the property had been thinned out, and when the Sanctuary came into sight, she let out a gasp.

   It still looked imposing, but the landscape had been completely redone, with all new plants and flowers added along the edges. The outside had been painted, now a gleaming white that looked striking with the chrome that edged the multitude of windows. The former factory looked serene and inviting, and she marveled at the contradiction in Negan’s nature. How could a sociopath with no conscience also be so concerned with health and wellness?

   Jess had no idea, which made him even scarier, and she pulled into the front parking lot, which was still scattered with cars, adding a little lip gloss to her mouth as she put off the inevitable. When she finally emerged from the car, her hands were clammy and shaking, and she wrapped one arm around her waist, using the other to steady her purse against her side to mask it.

   Walking into the front lobby was another shock as she took in just how much he’d managed to change in the months that she hadn’t seen him. The large open area was now home to several more hallways, an elevator, and an extensive floorplan that directed visitors to spas, the hotel area, the kitchens, and laundry, along with saunas and classrooms. She barely got a chance to look around when she heard her name being shouted, suddenly enveloped in Olivia’s arms.

   “Oh, Jessica,” she trilled, smelling of vanilla and oatmeal, and Jess was filled with lingering affection for the woman. “I’m so happy to see you.”

   “Olivia,” Jess hugged her back, shutting her eyes. Never had there been a sweeter woman, and she sincerely missed her. They’d always enjoyed each other’s company, and Olivia stepped back, holding her by the shoulders, her eyes beginning to well with tears.

   “I’m so sorry, Jess…about everything.”

   “Thank you,” she said, giving her a slight smile. “I’m hanging in there. This place looks just amazing, Olivia. I have a feeling that you’ve been a huge part of making Negan’s dream a reality.”

   A fine blush took over her cheeks, and she took Jess by the hand, showing her the brand-new office that she’d been given, telling her that she was now engaged, and Jess was genuinely happy for her. Olivia was a sweet, caring person, so much so that she’d never see Negan as anything more than a good boss and a benefactor to the masses.

   Their catch-up session was interrupted by a knock, and Jess turned, bracing herself to see Negan for the second time in as many days, offering him a small smile as he grinned fully at her, looking so handsome and angelic that a tiny part of her wondered if she was wrong. The only thing keeping her grounded in reality was the feel of her rings on her finger, and Olivia hemmed nervously, apologizing for not letting him know that Jess was here.

   “Not a problem, dear,” he assured her, giving her a flirty wink. “I knew you two would want to spend some time together.”

   Olivia excused herself to finish up some of her work before closing, and she left the two of them in her office, an uncomfortable silence as they studied each other. Jess finally spoke up, gesturing randomly to the building as she talked.

   “This is unreal, Negan,” she said, softly. “All the stuff you dreamed of is a reality. Congratulations.”

   His eyes scanned her face, and there was a sadness in them, one that she usually associated with Lucille. It was brief, but he took a deep breath, shaking his head back and forth. “I’m a lucky fucking guy, that’s for sure.” Jess had to agree. He’d been very lucky, so far. “But you had a huge part in his, Jessica. If you hadn’t encouraged me to do this, I’m not sure I’d be standing here right now.”

   “Well, I’d love to see it,” she told him as her phone beeped, and she reached into her purse, excusing herself as she looked at the screen. “Goddamnit,” she muttered, stowing it back in her bag before Negan could get a glimpse at it. “I’m sorry, but I have to run back to the gallery.”

   “What’s wrong?”

   “I just got a text that a special piece I ordered is at the FedEx office, and I have to print out a slip so I can pick it up on my way home,” she lied, sounding apologetic. In actuality, it was just a text from Daryl, one that they’d arranged ahead of time. “It’s a small Mack painting that I busted my ass to get, and the thought of leaving it at the office,” she suppressed a shudder, selling the lie. He knew all about her love of Jean-Paul Mack, and his shoulders lowered slightly.

   “You can use my computer, Jess. It’s not a big deal.”

   “I don’t want to impose,” she hated the simper in her voice, but it was like catnip to Negan, and he started for the door. Now that she was here, he wasn’t going to let her just leave right away, and he called for her to follow him. She trailed behind, down the hallway where she used to come to get treated, and he unlocked his office, guiding her to the desk where his computer was sitting.

   “I’ll leave you to it.”

   “You don’t have to leave,” she told him, wanting to appear at ease. “It’ll just take a second.”

   Negan sat down on the other side, just watching her, and she clicked the mouse, opening the internet. While she waited for the FedEx page to load, she moved the arrow over the start button, bringing up the settings page. Aaron had told her the night before where to find his IP address, something they’d need if they wanted to hack into his system to access his cameras, and Jess toggled back and forth between his personal info and the internet, typing in her login info, printing out a very real delivery ticket, adding the IP address in the notes section, a thrill of satisfaction that she was doing it right under his nose.

   While the paper was printing out, he told her about Olivia’s promotion, and he sounded genuinely proud of the additional responsibilities that he’d given her. She was now responsible for all the hiring of the floor staff, and had a scheduler that was setting up all appointments. His grand opening was set up for the following week, and it occurred to her that if they wanted to get inside here, it was going to have to be soon. Once he was up and running, this place would be crawling with people all the time.

   “Are you all right? You just got really pale,” Negan pointed out, watching her carefully, and she shut the web page, clicking off of the settings after, getting to her feet.

   “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I just think I feel a headache coming on. Maybe I’m just thirsty. Thanks again for letting me do this,” she stood up, grabbing the paper so that he could see the logo before shoving it in her purse.

   “Well, I just got you here, and I won’t get the chance to show off if you had to leave,” he said, walking her back down the hallway. “Let me take you to the juice bar first, and we’ll get a smoothie while I give you the tour.”

   “You have a juice bar?”

   “Fuck yeah, I do,” he crowed, taking them back out into the main lobby, the gentle whoosh from the waterfall now sounding even more calming in the larger area. “This is gonna be big, Jess. Everything I’ve ever dreamed, and it’s all coming together.”

    _That’s what you think, asshole_.

   The juice bar was bright, cheery, and overloaded with fruits and veggies, a happy young man working diligently behind the counter preparing cut fruit for freezing when he saw Negan and Jess approach, and he wiped his hands giving them a welcoming smile.

   “Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?”

   “Hey, Jerry. Can you make Jess here a wellness shake?”

   “Coming right up.”

   Jerry disappeared into the back room, grabbing the ingredients and adding pineapple, some powder, kale, and a few other things to one of the blenders. Jess felt herself grimacing, and Negan poked her in the side, making her jump.

   “Have I ever made you try anything that you didn’t end up loving?”

   She wanted to point out that there were plenty of things he’d exposed her to that ended up detrimental to her health, but she gave him a shrug, playing along. In truth, when it came to food and drinks, he hadn’t failed, and when the kid handed over the plastic tumbler, she took a careful sip, wanting to say it sucked just to prove him wrong, but it tasted good, enough so that she didn’t even notice the greens in it.

   “Shut up,” she muttered when he smirked, thanking Jerry, and telling him to call it a night. The kid started to chop faster, and they sat at one of the tables while she drank, looking around at the wealth of information that he’d had put on the walls espousing the benefits of different fruits, vegetables, and vitamins.

   When she took the last sip, Negan took it back to the counter, washing out the cup and taking her back out. While they walked, he kept a running commentary on all of the construction, and she looked around, pasting a dreamy look on her face, all the while taking note of where there were cameras. They lined all of the public hallways and were even in the kitchens and laundry. The only spots they weren’t in were the locker rooms and the private treatment areas, one of which was a cold sauna, a large circular room with stone benches and a machine built into the ceiling that made soft little snowflakes drift down through the air.

   “Why the fuck would anyone want to freeze?” she asked, rubbing her arms briskly.

   “It’s good for circulation,” Negan switched the knob off, stopping the indoor snowfall. “It gets the blood pumping and the metabolism boosted. I always forget that you prefer the sun, despite how fucking pale you are.”

   “I like the sun, but it doesn’t like me,” she agreed, retreating to the warmth of the hallway. She almost made a comment about how much more tan Rick got than her, but she bit back the comment, and Negan noticed, affecting a softer tone.

   “You can talk about him, Jess. It won’t bother me.”

   She swallowed heavily as she looked up into his eyes, nearly fooled by the concern in them. Why couldn’t he just be normal? What made him the way he was?

   “Thanks. Really,” she turned away, filled with unexpected emotion. “It’s still raw, Negan. He’s gone, and I never got…I’ll never _get_ closure. I didn’t even get his body back. It’s out there, somewhere.”

   “I know, sweetheart,” he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, and she tried not to stiffen up beneath him. “I’m sorry for the pain you’re going through. But you will get through it. If a selfish fucker like me can end up happy again, I have faith that you can, too. You just have to give it time.”

   Jess let out a ragged breath, brushing a few stray tears off of her cheek, and she turned around to face him, trying to smile. “Come on,” he told her, taking her elbow. “I want to show you the rooms.”

  There were three floors of guest suites, sixty in all, and her mouth dropped open when he showed her the first one. All of the décor ideas that she’d suggested to him, and even mailed to him after their breakup were all presented, all the way down to the sheets, and she didn’t know what to say.

   “You have an amazing eye. Everything is fucking aces up here, and it’s all because of you. I see a career in interior design for you, someday.”

   “Wow.”

   It looked just like she imagined, and Jessica ran her hands over the comforter, admiring the softness and how lightweight it was. Everything was in earth tones, from warm browns to soothing greens and blues, and the bathroom was stocked with fluffy robes and an array of skin products, all packed nicely in bamboo baskets as a welcome.

   After seeing the different types of rooms on each floor, he led her down to the now-empty main floor, escorting her through the back of the building to the rear of the lot, now completely transformed into a garden oasis. There was a pool, several hot tubs, and a maze, along with an area that Negan planned on making into riding trails since he owned all of the empty acres behind the factory. It was overwhelming, frankly, the work he’d had done in such a short time, and he confessed that it had cost him an arm and a leg to get it done.

   “It’s worth it, though,” he said as he straightened a few lounge chairs, angling them so that they faced the pool, and his phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, an affectionate smile playing on his lips, and he held up his finger to Jess before answering it, taking on a loving tone. “Hey, baby. How’s your dad?”

   Turning her back to give him some privacy, she listened intently as he walked around the pool edge, apparently talking to Larissa, and she felt a pang of betrayal that the girl was still talking to him. She knew how dangerous he was, but maybe she just didn’t care. Or maybe, her brain reasoned, she’s placating him so that he won’t do anything to hurt her. It was easier to be on Negan’s good side than his bad, that much was crystal clear, and as he wrapped up his call, telling her that he missed her, Jess stroked the band of her ring, praying for calm and to get out of this building as soon as possible. She’d gotten a good look at everything but his private floor and the basement, and it was good enough to start formulating a plan.

   “Sorry about that,” he apologized, catching up to her as they walked back into the Sanctuary. “Larissa’s been calling me once a day to update me on her dad.”

   “Hopefully you’ll be able to work things out with her.”

   “I fucking hope so. She’s an awesome girl.”

   Choosing to remain quiet, she offered him a brief smile, and when they reached the entrance, he unlocked the front door, walking her out to her car.

   “Congratulations,” she said, setting her purse in the stuffy vehicle, letting it air out as Negan leaned against the side. “This place is amazing.”

   “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m pumped about the future, and I’m hoping you’ll be a part of it.”

   “Negan-“

   “As a friend,” he clarified, holding up his hands even though he was grinning, but Jess could see the desire in his eyes, even as he was waxing poetic about Larissa moments before. “Any time, day or night. If you need me, I’m there for you, Jessica.”

   Throwing her own feelings aside, she leaned up, planting a kiss on his cheek, and she jumped into her car before he could say or do anything, pulling straight out of the spot, and when she looked back in the mirror, he was watching her, holding his fingers to the spot.

   Jessica Grimes either made the best decision by doing that, or the worst, and only time would tell.

 

 

   Rick shivered under the spray of cold water, unable to keep his fingers steady. His soul was freezing and so was his body. It was August in Georgia, and he was always cold. Negan had come down to his cell in an exceptionally fine mood, and he’d offered to let Rick get clean, the first time he’d done so in days, not that he’d had any clue what the actual date was.

   Time had ceased to have reason anymore. Rick had no idea how long he’d been trapped by Negan, he just knew that he’d lost all sense of self. It had been sucked out of him just like the sunlight, creature comforts, and everything else that he’d ever taken for granted.

   “Hurry it up, dickhead.”

   He jerked at the sound of Negan’s voice. There was no privacy during his shower. Rick was forced to wash his emaciated body in full view of the other man, and he reached for the slimy soap, taking it with pained movements, using the old sliver to clean as much dirt from his body that he could, when he finally spoke in what felt like years.

   “Why?”

   “Why, what?”

   Too worn to care, he turned to face Negan, who ran an appraising eye over his pale, sickly body. “Why do you love her?”

   “Is that a fucking joke?”

   “I know why _I_ love her, but why do you? What is it about her that made you do this?”

   “Oh, Rick. Just give it up already.”

   “I want to know,” he worked to stop shaking, rinsing the soap from his hair and chest as Negan’s eyebrow rose.

   “She’s fucking gorgeous. She’s sweet, and she’s perfect.”

   “Jessica’s beautiful,” Rick agreed. “She’s also stubborn.”

   “Huh?”

   “She’s not perfect. When she’s pissed, she shuts that person out and won’t work through problems. She also makes really horrible spaghetti sauce but refuses to believe that it’s bad. She watches shitty reality programs, and she steals clothes and won’t give them back.”

   “What the fuck are you talking about?”

   “She cracks her knuckles, and it’s too loud. She talks during movies instead of paying attention,” Rick continued, feeling a spark of life for the first time in days, and he could almost swear that the water was slightly warmer. “She snores sometimes but won’t believe it, even if you get it on tape. She forgets to turn off lights.”

   “What is your fucking point?” Negan threw a towel at him, hitting him in the face, and Rick wrapped it around his waist, walking slowly on the wet tile towards a wooden bench where there was a threadbare pair of sweat pants waiting for him.

   “My point is that you have no fucking idea who she really is. She’s just a symbol, a made-up thing for what you wish you had. Jessica isn’t any more perfect than Lucille was, and eventually, you’re going to figure that out, and it’s going to disappoint you. And you’re going to take it out on her.”

   Negan struck out, hitting him square in the chest, and Rick ended up flat on his back with Negan straddling his waist, pinning his shoulders flush with the dirty floor. “I’d never hurt her, you fucking fuckwit. Everything I do is to make sure that she never suffers again. And you know what?” he taunted, gripping his chin, forcing Rick to look up at him. “It’s working. She was here tonight, Rick. The widow Grimes was here, just yards away from you, looking around, praising me on the work I’ve done to this place. She even placed a fucking kiss right here,” he pointed to his cheek. “I’m closer than ever to getting her back. And after I’ve fucked her brains out, I’m going to leave her lying in my bed, covered in sweat and cum, and I’m walking down here so you can smell it before I slit your fucking throat.”

   Rick let out a cry of rage, his arm flying up on its own, landing a solid whack to Negan’s jaw, and he was punished for it, getting a hit to his balls. It was enough to make him start to retch, and Negan climbed off of him as he curled to the side, coughing and gasping, reaching out for something to hold onto. When he’d had enough enjoyment at Rick’s expense, Negan grabbed him by the back of the neck, dragging him out of the locker room and down the hall towards his cell. He didn’t even resist, taking stilted breaths until he was thrown back in the room, back in the dark and the quiet.

   The only sounds he could hear were the whimpers from the room next to him where Larissa was being kept, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he smiled. When he was sure that Negan wasn’t coming back, he opened his fist, carefully cradling the large nail he’d managed to grab off of the floor, and as he turned to the wall, he felt for the mortar between the bricks that were closest to the ground, a soft scraping sound quieting the scared woman next to him.

   It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Jessica may have started to fall back into Negan’s arms, but Rick would die trying to rescue her, even from a cell.


	34. Chapter 34

   Daryl turned sharply, narrowly missing the curb as he guided his bike through the night, Jessica’s nails digging into his stomach, a warning to slow down. She’d offered to drive, but he wanted her to keep her car in front of the house in case Negan decided to check up on her. Despite his instincts to keep her from having anything to do with that asshole, it had actually been all right. The murderin’ bastard texted Jess at least twenty times in the last two days, and she replied to every query.

   “You’re just encouragin’ him,” he’d argued, gripping onto the handle of the lawnmower. Since Rick had passed, Daryl had come twice a week to cut the lawn, often times staying after for dinner. Jessica had no mechanical skills whatsoever, so while she made them something to eat, he’d fix broken light fixtures or change the oil in her car. It was the least he could do for her, until she’d come to him with the intention of finding some sort of evidence that Negan was behind everything that happened at the cabin.

   He’d tried arguing with her, threatening to tell Blake what she was up to, and he even swore that he’d call her parents, but she was unflappable. Jessica was convinced that he was behind Rick’s death, and after days of trying to stop her, he finally gave in. When she’d reestablished contact with the fucker, Daryl had gone to his factory to take a look around but had been stymied by the security camera that littered the outside of the building. Every entrance was covered, and he’d retreated in anger.

   Now, they had the Negan’s internet IP address, and they were currently heading to get help accessing his security system.

   When they stopped at a red light, she punched him in the ribs, yelling at him even though he couldn’t hear her over the roar of his engine. More than likely she was bitching about how fast he was driving, but Daryl knew what he was doing. He’d been riding bikes since he could walk, and he sped off as soon as the light turned green.

   Their helper lived in an apartment building not far from his own, and Daryl pulled into the gravel parking lot, cutting the engine and leaning the bike to the side, secured by the kickstand. His passenger’s helmet was slammed into his stomach, and he glared up at Jess, seeing her giving him the same look back.

   “You asshole,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “I told you that you were going too fast.”

   “You’re fine, ain’t ya?” he snapped, towing her towards the entrance. As they stood on the stoop, he pressed the button for apartment eight, the name ‘Porter’ written in careful, blocked letters to the right of it.

   “Yes?” came a monotone voice from the speaker, and he spoke in a gruff voice.

   “It’s Dixon.”

   Seconds later, the door buzzed, and he walked in front of Jessica, the hallway smelling of soup and mothballs. A faded placard directed them up the worn, carpeted steps, and when they got to door eight, he knocked steadily. A series of locks clicked, and they were face-to-face with one Eugene Porter.

   Twice arrested for hacking the city government’s records database, Eugene was the first person that Daryl thought of that could help them. He’d represented himself when he’d gotten caught, and both times he’d been absolved of any guilt.

   Standing about six-foot-two, the man was portly in appearance, with a doughy face and a mullet that cascaded over his shoulders. His eyes were wary, bugging out of his head when he laid them on Jessica, and his mouth dropped open.

   “You did not disclose that you would be bringing a civilian, let alone a female,” Eugene accused, beads of sweat forming around his temple, and he could feel Jess stiffen behind him.

   “She’s the one you’re helpin’,” he said, taking a step forward. Eugene had been uncooperative at first when Daryl initially reached out to him, fearing entrapment. It had taken several phone calls and finally a payment of a thousand dollars, all in non-sequential bills to get his compliance, and he eventually moved aside to let them in.

   “I’m Jessica,” she said, holding out her hand, and he looked at it and then up at her face before walking over to the dining area, set up with a computer table and more electronics than a Radio Shack. There was a gaming chair in the living room, a large flat-screen television, and a bunch of consoles underneath.

   “I assume you brought the IP address that I need,” he said, sitting down in front of the computer, holding out his hand, palm up.

   Jessica gave him a worried look, but Daryl just shook his head, walking over to him and handing him the sheet of paper with the numbers typed on it, disguised as a shipping order.

   Eugene brought up some program from the desktop, typing in the numbers and doing whatever the hell hackers did. Sure enough, in just minutes, he and Jess were huddled behind him, staring at over a dozen little screens, all showing different parts of the Sanctuary. Hallways, waiting rooms, work areas, they were all live, and Jess dug her nails into his arm as they watched the inner workings of his spa.

   “This is it,” she whispered, her eyes going back and forth rapidly. “Those six show the upper floors, and that one is the laundry. That’s the…juice bar,” she pointed out, and he wrote down on the paper which camera was which.

   “Do you know the outside ones?” he asked, and she leaned over Eugene’s shoulder, her chest brushing against his cheek, making his face turn about six different shades of red.

   “Uh, that one’s the side entrance to his private area,” Jess frowned, pointing to the bottom right camera. “That’s the front, and that’s the back where the pool and hot tubs are.”

   “If you would please take two steps back, I will continue with the job I was paid to do, and I’ll access the remainder of his security system.”

   He and Jess retreated to the living room as Eugene continued to break down whatever internet walls were put in place to protect Negan’s house of horrors. Now that they were actually doing this, Daryl felt a flicker of excitement, a chance to avenge not only his partner, but his friend. Rick was as much a brother to him as Merle, and Negan was going to pay. Daryl had a tracker’s disposition, from growing up the way he did, and if there was so much as a fingerprint that implicated that fucker, he was going to find it.

   “I am successful,” Eugene announced, sounding as enthused as if he received a letter requiring him for jury duty. When Daryl came back over, he brought up camera twelve, the one facing the private entrance, and with the flick of his wrist, there was a blink on the keypad next to the doorknob. “Once you are ready to enter the domicile, you’ll text me and I’ll unlock it. I can black out the cameras while you do your inspection of the property.”

   Daryl smiled, a rarity for him, and he started working out a plan in his head as they left, and when Jess got on the bike behind him, she gave him a reassuring hug. This asshole was going down.

 

 

 

   Negan sat at his desk, his legs splayed out and his hands behind his head as he watched the cameras, watched all of his people working hard to make his dream come true. Olivia was filing paperwork in the medical records office, and the housekeeping staff were putting the final touches on the retreat rooms. All of the welcome baskets were delivered, and every room was booked for the grand opening.

   The local news stations would be covering his opening night party, and it was the hottest ticket in town. Phillip Blake would be there, along with every other power player in Atlanta.

   And so would Jessica.

   When he’d asked her to accompany him to the festivities, it had taken her over two hours to reply, but not once did he second guess himself. For almost a week, she’d allowed him back into her life, at least via text. She occupied his thoughts all day and night, though he proceeded with caution. At first, it was banal, a ‘how was your day?’ or a funny meme. But with every response he received, his bravado increased, until they were holding full conversations, sometimes for hours on end.

   Some of the talk was about Rick the Prick and Larissa, but the majority of it was about life or just bullshit. The weather, a new song. It was like it was before, when they would have so much to say to each other, and it only increased the longing he felt for her and the belief that he’d done the right thing.

   They were meant to be, Negan had never been surer of anything in his life. More than he and Lucille, because Lucille hadn’t given him a second chance. She’d shut him out, serving him with divorce papers, refusing to let him back into their house.

   Jessica may have married someone else, but the connection, the bond that they had never gone away, and he took pleasure in inflicting that particular pain on Rick. The damage it did to him every time he showed him a text from Jessica was exquisite. Those words on the screen were the closest he’d ever get to her before he died, and Negan frowned just thinking about it.

   The plan had been to rid the world of Rick Grimes before he opened his spa, and he missed the mark, which put a whole new set of problems on his doorstep. Now that they were going to be filled with paying customers, he was partially fucked. Over the last several days, in between conversing with Jess and making last minute decisions for the party, he’d wracked his brain to figure out how he was going to get Rick’s body out of the basement. Larissa’s, too.

   And then he stumbled on the answer. He was emptying one of the buckets of waste from the cell when he realized that the sewers that ran underneath the Sanctuary were vast and deep. If they had enough rain, or enough water, he guessed, he could dump the prick down into the sewer and let him wash away, ending up in a retention pond somewhere.

   As he was lost in thought, his phone beeped, and he ran his finger across the screen, finding a text from Jess. All it said was ‘help!’, and he dropped his legs, dialing her number as he sat up straight, fear shooting through his chest.

   When the call went through, he could hear water in the background and he stood up, pacing his office. “Jess? Honey? What’s wrong?”

   “I just walked in the house, and the kitchen is filled with water,” she sounded panicked and overwhelmed. “I don’t know if a pipe burst and I have no fucking clue what to do.”

   Jesus Christ. She’d scared him shitless, and he grabbed his keys, shutting the door behind him as he headed for the garage. “I’m on my way.”

   “You don’t have to come,” she cautioned, but he was already out the door. “I just need to know how to shut it off. Do you know of an emergency plumber that could come out?”

   “I’m pretty handy with tools, may I remind you,” Negan chuckled, ignoring when she swore under her breath. He told her where the shutoff valve was for the sink, and the sound of rushing water stopped, replaced by persistent dripping, allowing Jess to take a deep breath.

   “My fucking life,” she muttered, and he flipped on the garage light, finding his toolbox. Rick probably had one at the house, but the only thing Negan wanted of his was his wife.

   “It’ll be fine,” he assured her, setting the box in his trunk with a loud thump. “Just start mopping up the water and I’ll be over to take care of it.”

   “Thank you,” she said, sounding so forlorn and sad that he stopped in his tracks. All he wanted was to make her happy again, and let out a soothing rumble, shutting the trunk.

   “Hang in there, sweetheart. I’ll be there for you.”

   Shitty luck for her house, but kismet for Negan, and he peeled out of the garage with a shit-eating grin on his face.

   It was almost dark when he pulled into her driveway, the lights from the inside made the small house look cozy, and Negan noted the flowers that hung from baskets on the porch, various colors of pink and white. He never saw this type of existence for himself, but as he walked the path to the front door, he imagined coming home every night to this little place, with Jess waiting for him.

   She opened the door, dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, wearing yellow gloves and holding a sponge. She didn’t have it in her to smile, and he waited until she invited him in, carrying the toolbox into the kitchen. The floor was wet, but no longer flooded, and he took a second to look around. He could see her influence everywhere. The walls were colorful and bright, and there was a pretty painting above the fireplace.

   “Hi,” he said, his eyebrows lifting when she pulled the gloves off, tossing them angrily towards the general area of the sink.

   “I’m so sorry,” she said, her head falling into her hands, and he bit back a chuckle as he walked carefully over to her, taking her gently by the shoulders.

   “It’s okay,” he cooed, trying to bolster her. “Shit like this happens, Jess. I told you I’d do anything for you and I meant it. We’ll get it fixed.”

   “I would’ve asked Daryl, but he’s working.”

   Negan tried not to stiffen at the mention of the other man, and he backed up, opening the top of the toolbox and sifting through the contents, finding the things he needed. There was a clean bath towel on the table, and he laid it down on the floor, perching on it to assess the damage.

   “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said lamely as he scowled at the plumbing out of her sight. “I just…he lives closer, is all.”

   “I’m not offended,” Negan said after a long silence. “I have no claim on you, sweetheart.”

   Just hearing Daryl’s name put him in a sour mood, a reminder of the hold that Rick’s aura still had on her. Daryl was Rick’s partner, and Negan resented that he was hanging around her life. She had her own friends. Michonne and her husband, even that Jesus guy that sucker punched him. She didn’t need that surly asshole trying to cling to Rick’s old life.

   The room was oppressively quiet while he ducked under the sink, grimly pleased that there was a rusty hole in the pipe, ensuring that he’d be able to stick around for a while once he got a replacement, and he straightened up to see Jess watching him with wide eyes, her teeth picking at her bottom lip.

   “You’ve got a big-ass hole in your pipe,” he said, setting the flashlight on the counter.

  “Fucking fuck,” she sighed, looking around helplessly. It touched him, the sheer struggle she was experiencing, because he was here to help her put the pieces back together, and he cocked his head to the side.

   “It’s okay. I’m just going to run to the hardware store and get a replacement. Why don’t you finish cleaning up and I’ll take care of it.”

   “Thank you, Negan,” she couldn’t hide the relief, and he winked at her, stooping back down to unscrew the damaged metal piece. It took him a few minutes, but when he got it out, he wrapped it in one of the dish towels that were already ruined, promising her that he’d be back soon.

 

 

 

   Jessica stood in the doorway, watching as Negan drove off to get a new piece for her sink, and as soon as he was around the corner, she whirled around, picking up her phone and texting Daryl.

  _-Are you in?_

   Daryl didn’t answer for a long time, long enough that she started to panic, thinking that something had happened, and when she finally got a reply, she let out a deep breath, feeling lightheaded.

    _ **-I’m in his apartment, looking around. Nothing so far, but I’ll search every floor. Building is empty.**_

 

   Jess was…disappointed. It wasn’t like she thought he’d leave a binder sitting on the table labeled ‘My murderous plans for Rick’ on it, but her doubts were starting to kick in that possibly Negan was innocent. Maybe she was looking for something that wasn’t there, just because she needed a scapegoat that made more sense than just Jeff being a drug user and pushing it on his friends out of nowhere.

   It took a huge amount of acting on her part to play the damsel in distress after Daryl replaced the perfectly fine pipe with a shittier model, and he showed her how to shut the valve off after they let a decent amount of water pool in the kitchen. There was enough to make it look like a disaster, but not enough to damage the flooring, and she’d let the sink run after texting him, giving Daryl time to get to the Sanctuary to stand watch.

   They’d calculated how much time he’d have to explore the building, and Jess assured him that she’d keep Negan at her house for as long as she could. The promise had implied a lot, and Daryl was irate, swearing loudly that Jess was under no circumstances to debase herself just so he could have more time.

   “You have no control over me, Daryl,” she’d screeched, making him take a step back. “I told you I’d do anything to find out the truth and I meant it. If it takes me screwing that asshole, I will, and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me.”

   It took the wind out of her sails, and she slumped to her knees in the kitchen, overcome with sadness. “I have to know, Daryl. It’s all I have left. Don’t you see? The truth is all I have.”

   “Well, it ain’t gonna come to that,” he said, crouching down and resting his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll make sure of it.”

   Jess didn’t want to trade her body, her soul for answers, but she would. Rick’s life, his legacy to her was worth it.

   When Negan returned a half-hour later, her phone was on vibrate and the kitchen was dry, two little fans set up by the basement steps to keep the air flowing. She was sitting at the table, two glasses of lemonade in front of her, and Negan pulled a new piece of pipe out, showing her.

   “See? Easy peasy,” he teased, and she smiled, resting her chin on her fist. Negan took a long drink of the lemonade before settling back under the sink to fix it, and Jess let her hands drift over her phone, waiting for any confirmation from Daryl that he’d found something. But there was no texts for her, just the steady clank of wrenches and metal on metal until he spoke, peeking his head out. “How're things at work? Is your show set up?”

   The gallery was holding another showcase, with more traditional art pieces, and they expected to get an older clientele, one that was still important to their business. Jess told him about it as he worked, growing more comfortable with the fact that he was here in her house. He teased her about not knowing a Mack from a hole in the ground, and she groaned loudly, rolling her eyes.

   Even after everything, a familiarity was returning, the banter that they used to engage in, and she volleyed comments right back to him, reminding him that he worked like a hippie in his bare feet. The time seemed to pass by faster than she thought, and it was a testament to his uncanny ability to make her feel at ease, mostly.

   When he turned the valve back on, they both stared hard at the pipes, and Negan gave her a triumphant smile, going so far as to physically pat himself on the back.

   “Thank you,” she murmured, watching him as he started to put his tools back into the black metal box. “The least I can do is offer you a beer.”

   “Well, I’d be much obliged, ma’am,” he affected a corny twang to his voice, and Jess strongly urged him to never do it again.

   They carried their beers into the living room, each taking a seat on the couch, and Negan gazed around, his eyes landing on a picture over the fireplace of her and Rick, sitting together on the porch swing. His face turned solemn, and he took a long sip of his beer as Jess squirmed in her seat, feeling like Rick was watching her, disappointed.

   “Your house suits you,” Negan observed, gesturing to the general area. “This vibe is colorful and eclectic.”

   “Thank you,” she replied, turning to the side and bringing her legs up onto the cushion. “I’ve kinda thrown myself into redecorating. The walls used to be white.”

   Now they were a shade called Hawaiian Teal, the perfect mix of ocean and sky, accented with bright white molding. She and Carl had spent a weekend painting every room in the house, the need to turn her energy into something tangible, and Carl had picked a deep indigo tone for his room, splattering the freshly darkened walls with posters and drawings that he’d made.

   “Like I said, you have a real talent for it. Everyone fucking loves the stuff you came up with for the Sanctuary. Very soothing.”

   He always had a way of complimenting her, making her flush, and she dipped her head, pressing her lips to her knees as the warmth spread across her skin.

   “How’s Larissa?”

   “Not so good,” he sighed, easing back into the couch, resting the beer bottle on his knee. “Her dad’s not doing so hot, and it’s taking its toll on her.”

   “Maybe you should visit her. Cheer her up.”

   “I offered,” he said, looking at her out of the corner of her eye, but she still had her head down. “It turns out she wants to make the break more permanent.”

   Jessica’s throat closed up, and she chanced a quick look up at him, but he wasn’t looking back at her, instead staring out of the picture window towards the street light. “I’m sorry.”

   “Don’t be. The worst thing in the world is to try to hold onto someone that doesn’t want to be there.”

   The words sent a jolt up her spine, and she felt breathless. The introspection rattled her, especially because it was coming from him, and it was the antithesis of everything she knew about him. His eyelids fluttered, and he seemed to come back to himself, giving her a sad smile. “You think I would’ve learned that by now.”

   “Negan…”

   “I’m not trying to put you on the spot, Jess. Not after everything you’ve been through. But I want you to know how fucking happy I am that you’ve given me a chance to be back in your life. Believe me, I’m not taking it for granted.”

   Nerves made her suck down the rest of the beer, and Negan reached for her hand when she set the empty bottle on the coffee table, aware that she was trembling. “You don’t have to be afraid, Jess. Not of me.”

   Of course, she did, but she felt the tears start to form at the corners of her eyes, and Jess unfolded her legs, easing over and resting her head on his shoulder. His cologne was almost as familiar to her as Rick’s smell, and it surrounded her, bringing back memories that were good and bad.

   “I don’t know what to do anymore,” she said, fighting the sadness that permeated everything about her life. “I don’t know how to live.”

   All he did was rest his cheek on top of her head, covering her hand with both of his, and she felt his chest rise and fall next to her arm. Honesty. She was being truthful now, and he had to know it. “You just do, sweetheart. You get by. Some days you smile, and some you’ll cry. Hell, you’ll probably do both in one day. But you don’t have to do it alone, whether it’s me, or Michonne and Andrea. You know I love you, Jess. A part of me always has and always will. And I hope that you're okay with that.”

   “I do know,” she whispered, shutting her eyes. He _did_ love her, in some sick, demented way, and another wave of sadness took over, because it was a fucking tragedy. Her life, mixed with his was goddamned Shakespearean. As she cried, he placed soft kisses on the top of her head.

   Somehow, some way, she ended up tilting her face towards him, and their lips connected, moving together for a few seconds until his phone beeped, breaking them apart. Shocked, she skittered back as he reached into his pocket, his face turning into stone.

   “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to go.”

   “Is everything all right?”

   He turned to look at her, and it made her blood run cold for a split second until he transitioned to a tight smile. “It’s fine. Just a little issue at the Sanctuary.”

   Negan got up quickly, striding back into the kitchen for his toolbox, tossing his empty beer bottle into the trash. As he made his way to the door, he stopped, touching her briefly on the cheek. “We still have a date tomorrow, yes?”

   “Yes,” she tried to smile, unable to do so as her stomach turned upside down. He seemed unbothered, giving her a quick peck right above her eyebrow. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

   “Drive safe.”

   He was gone before the words left her mouth, and as she shut the door, his car was already reversing out of the driveway. Something happened, and she hurriedly dialed Daryl’s number, still tasting Negan on her tongue. He picked up after six rings, sounding on the verge of hysteria.

   “Daryl? Negan’s on his way back.”

   She could hear him ranting as slapping footsteps echoed in the background, and she sat down abruptly as he shouted incoherently. “Daryl, I can’t understand you.”

   When he finally started to make sense, the room started to spin, and she ended up on the floor, looking at the ceiling.

   “He’s alive, Jess! Rick is alive!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAHHHHHH!!!!!!


	35. Chapter 35

   Nana Mary Turner, née Johnson, was the strongest woman Jessica had ever known. Born just before the Great Depression, she spent her youth caring for brothers and sisters not much younger than herself while her parents struggled to keep their family farm from running into the ground. Then, when the second World War commenced, she took a job at Bell Aircraft, helping to arm the war effort, all while still caring for her siblings.

   When the Allies declared victory, she met a young Eldon Turner at a Veteran’s dance, and they were married two weeks later. He was the only man she’d ever loved, even though he died in an automobile accident five years into their marriage, leaving her with two young babies and no income other than his pension. So, she went back to work, and continued to do so for the rest of her life, doing anything and everything she had to so that Jessica’s father and aunt were able to go to college and make something of themselves.

   Jessica had kept vigil one day, holding her hand as she laid in a bed at the Oak Glen Nursing Home, and she asked Nana Turner how she did it. How she persevered during so much heartache and struggle, and the old woman smiled, her eyes still as sharp as ever, even as the rest of her body was failing her.

   “Life tests us, always,” Nana told her, pulling her closer. “It never gives us a choice, baby. We rise to the occasion because there are people that depend on us. You’re a Turner,” she said, proudly. “Turners never falter. You’ll see.”

   Sitting on her bed, leaning against the headboard, Jessica held Nana’s picture in her lap, taken when she was maybe about her own age. They looked like they could’ve been twins, with her dark hair done in pin curls and a reserved smile on her lips. Jess could see the pain and strength in her eyes, a widow with two young kids, but still, she pressed on.

   And now Jess had to find the will to get through this night, to face the most evil man she’d ever met, and make him believe that she didn’t find him repulsive, that she didn’t want to take a sledgehammer to his face.

   Because her husband was still sitting in his basement, along with a girl that had already been hurt enough for two lifetimes.

 

 

 

   Rick was propped up in the corner when the door to his cell opened, flooding the dismal room with light, and he squinted, holding his hand up to his throbbing eyes.  
Negan stood in front of him, dressed in an expensive suit, the smell of cologne making Rick’s nose itch, and he tossed a peanut butter sandwich on the floor along with a bottle of water.

   “Enjoy, prick. It may be your last meal,” Negan taunted him, fixing his tie. “My little bird will be my date tonight, and if everything goes the way I think it will, you’ll be floating in the sewer by dawn.”

   The taunts couldn’t touch him anymore, even though he let his head drop in defeat, expelling a shaky breath. “Don’t kill the girl,” he said in a creaky voice, dry from not drinking in over twelve hours. “She didn’t anything wrong but love you.”

   “I didn’t want anything to happen to her,” Negan sighed, sounding startlingly sincere, leaning against the door frame as Rick picked up the sandwich, taking it out of the baggie. “If she would’ve just minded her fucking business, she’d be as free as the wind right now. But her situation is squarely on your shoulders, asshole. If you would’ve just kept quiet, she never would’ve nosed around down here and found out my dirty little secret. Her future is a direct result of your actions, Rick, not mine. Her blood is on your head.”

   The peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth, making a sticky glue of his tongue, and it was a good thing because there were a hundred things he wanted to say to this psychopath, who stole him away from his son and wife. Who made them think he was dead, just so he could insert himself into their lives.

   Negan was a disease, an aberration of humanity, and Jessica was caught up in this fuckery. Rick hated that she was going to be here, that she was one that was rescuing him, but the desire to live, to be free overrode any other feeling that was coursing through his body. He forced the sandwich down, drinking half of the water as the other man warned him that he would know if Rick tried anything.

   Hell, Daryl had barely made it out of the factory after discovering him, thanks to the motion detectors that Negan had installed around the door frames. It kept him from doing something stupid, like setting Rick free, even though it had killed him to send Daryl away.

   Being a cop, Daryl Dixon was breaking and entering, and they wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if they didn’t do this by the book. He’d begged his friend and partner to leave, to come back legally so that they could put Negan in jail, but when Daryl confessed that Jessica would be Negan's date to the opening night party because she was trying to find out what Negan knew about his ‘death’.

   It had taken him losing his mind, slamming himself against the metal door as he let out a howl of rage to get Daryl to open the door, with subdued words that barely reached his ears. “How do I get you out? Where are the keys?”

   “You have to save the girl,” he panted, slumping down onto the cold, concrete floor. “She’s in the next room.”

   “I ain’t doin’ anything til I get you out. I’m gonna kill this motherfucker the second he walks through the door.”

   It would be justice, but not the right kind, if that happened, and Rick steeled himself internally, a brief moment of clarity, telling himself that he could hang on a little longer, and he hatched a quick plan, whispering it through the crack in the door, urging Daryl to get the hell out of the Sanctuary. All they needed was someone to ‘discover’ him down here, and that person could call the police. Daryl would never be implicated, and Negan would end up behind bars, if not the electric chair.

   And Carl…his son, who stepped up when Rick couldn’t. He needed to see his son, to hold him and thank him for being so strong.

   As for Jessica, there weren’t words to describe how much he wanted to see her face, to apologize for bringing so much pain into her life, all the way back from that first phone call from Lori that sent them onto this path. He’d only wanted to love her, to keep her safe and happy, and now he was totally dependent on her to free him. She was most likely the only one who’d be able to come and go, thanks to Negan’s obsession with her, but the fact that she would be here for the party meant that there would be a lot of people to provide a distraction, allowing her to sneak downstairs.

 

    After Negan took the baggie and bottle back, he wished Rick a good night, shutting him back into the darkness. His heart was racing as he heard the retreating steps, and ten minutes later, he fumbled around with the brick that he’d managed to loosen over the last week, and his fingers scraped at the rough edges, pulling it free.  
Larissa's fingers brushed his, having been visited by Negan first to be fed, and she cried softly as he tried to squeeze them reassuringly.

   “We’re getting out of here,” he promised her. “Tonight.”

   “Jess-“ she choked out, and he shifted onto his side so that his face was right in front of the hole.

   “I trust Daryl,” he said, shutting his eyes as their cold fingers stayed entwined. “He’ll make sure she’s safe.”

 

 

 

   The guilt clawed at him, even almost twenty-four hours later. Fear at leaving Rick and that girl behind in a basement, and the way that he’d told Jessica, rocking her world even more than it already was.

   When he emerged from the woods around Negan’s factory, the asshole was already on his way to see Jess, and he waited for the signal to proceed. Daryl wasn’t stupid enough to drive his bike onto the property, instead parking it on a dirt road that ran through the brush about a half-mile east, picking his way easily through the wooded land.

   Jessica sent him a text that he was pulling in, and he, in turn, sent a notification to Eugene to dismantle the security system. Once the keypad flickered, Eugene gave him the go-ahead, and he took off in the twilight, bypassing the regular lock with ease. He’d memorized the layout of the building from Jessica’s recollections, and his first stop was Negan’s private apartment on the top floor.

   As he moved up the flights of steps, his training kicked in, looking for every possible danger, even though the building was nearly empty, only a few remaining employees that were finishing up for the night. The stairwell was deserted, as Jess informed him that no one had access to it but Negan, and when he reached the top, there was a long hallway that led to a bright red, metal door.

   Again, he had the lock opened in under a minute, and he stepped inside Negan's private area on silent feet, giving it a scrutinizing look. Cupboards, drawers, medicine cabinets. Daryl looked through them all, finding nothing out of place before he started on other spots, including under the bed, in the freezer, behind the larger pieces of furniture.

   Frustrated but resolute, he left the top floor, making a compulsory check of the middle three floors until Eugene let him know that all of the employees had gone for the day. In the meantime, he sent an answer to Jess that he hadn’t found anything, but he’d keep looking.

   The ground floor was enormous, and he kept his search to the clerical areas, starting with the secretary’s office. Other than some hidden snacks and love letters from her boyfriend, there was nothing of note. Same with some guy named Dwight’s office. Just hand-carved figurines and a picture of a pretty brunette.

   Negan’s office was immaculate, with several degrees and certificates on the wall, expensive books, and a computer that Eugene walked him through unlocking. There, he hoped to find something, some shred of evidence or information, but all he found was a file of pictures of Jessica, nearly a hundred of them. It made his skin crawl, even though there was nothing seedy about them. Some were posed pictures, some were candid, but it set the tone of this freak’s obsession with her, and he let out a huff of frustration as he shut the laptop, feeling damned near hopeless, that he was letting her down.

   With tempered expectations, he read her text that Negan was back with the part to the sink, moving slowly along the wall towards the basement, the last place he could check. There was a sliding lock on the door, and he slid it open with gloved fingers, feeling the cool air on his cheekbones when he stepped down into the darkness, feeling for a light switch. It didn’t add much to the atmosphere, just a dim yellow tone to the grim walls, and when he reached the bottom, Daryl was a little unsure of where to start. There were two directions that he could go, east and west, and on a wing and a prayer, he decided to go west first.

   There were numbered doors along both sides of the hall, ranging from two to twenty, all containing construction supplies, tools, and various other crap that told him nothing. So, he backtracked to the east, following the stained concrete that was lit by hanging bulbs, each buzzing their own tune. As he rounded the corner, he saw a stool sitting between two unmarked doors and a baseball bat lying against one of the legs.

   Something about it made his hair stand on end, and he crept up to the first door, turning the knob, but it was locked. The basement was eerily quiet, save for the buzzing of the overhead lights, and he moved to the second door, also finding it inaccessible. Neither of them were able to be broken into with his pick, and he let out a roar of frustration, taking a wrench that was sitting on the shelf across the way and throwing it against the wall. This fucker was making him insane, and as he cursed and swore to the heavens, he heard it. A scratchy voice.

    _Rick’s_ voice.

 

 

 

 

   “Where are you going tonight?”

   Jess looked up from her makeup table, catching Carl’s eye in the mirror as he stood in the doorway to her room. He was holding a McDonald’s cup, watching her curiously, and she turned in her seat to face him as he glanced at the dress that was laying on the bed.

   “I’m going to the opening night party at the Sanctuary.”

   His eyes narrowed in disbelief, looking so much like Rick that it almost took her breath away, and she fought to keep from crying. From confessing the biggest secret she’d ever kept in her life.

   “What? Are you _nuts_?”

   “No, I’m not nuts, Carl,” Jess stood up to face him, and she watched as the cup began to constrict in his hand. “Phillip and Andrea are going, too.”

   “That guy is…he’s a _jerk_ , Jess. He hurt you, and you’re his friend again?”

   “No, it’s not like that,” she said, but Carl was already irate, and he stomped off down the hall, grabbing his keys out of the little bowl on the table. “Carl, stop.”

   He stormed out of the house, heading for his car, and Jess trailed behind him, wrapping her robe around her body since she was still in a slip. Catching up to him before he could get in, she gripped his elbow, forcing him to look at her.

   “Dad’s only been gone a month. How could you do this to him?”

   “Carl, stop it! That’s not what this is. I would never go back to Negan. Don’t you know me at all?”

   “I thought I did,” he said, refusing to make eye contact with her, and she flinched back, hurt more than he possibly knew. Carl slammed the car door, peeling out as she stood in the driveway, alone, watching as he disappeared out of sight.

   Walking back in on shaky legs, Jess retreated to her room, staring at the dress, and all it represented to her. Carl was mad, and she was desperate to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t. Knowing him, he’d knock down the door to the Sanctuary to get to his father. Hell, Jessica had almost done that exact thing when Daryl showed up at her house, twenty minutes after telling her that Rick was alive.

   

   She’d been on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with the phone still in her hand when he came in, kneeling next to her. His eyes were red, and his face was pale as she stared through him, waiting for the hammer to fall. And fall, it did.

   “He’s in the basement of the Sanctuary.”

   Those were the words that made her snap out of whatever haze she’d been in, and she sat up, her breath expelling in a rush.

   “You left him there? You left him _there_?”

   Jessica let out a wail of rage and pain, slamming her fists into his chest as he did nothing to stop her, behaving more like a wounded animal than a human being until she tried to get to her feet, and he pinned her up against the couch.

   “I have to go-“ she screamed, thrashing in his grip. “I have to get him.”

   “Listen to me, goddamnit!”

   It shocked her into silence, hearing him let loose right in her face, and he was nearly feral with rage and energy. Her mouth hung open as he told her how he found Rick, and Larissa, and what Negan had been doing to them since they’d been locked up. How Negan told Rick that once she was his again, he was going to kill them. That Rick wanted Negan to rot in jail for what he’d done, but that would only happen if he was found legally. Found by _her_ the next night.

   “Eugene called me, Jess. Negan set up another alarm around their rooms. He knew something was happenin’. He wanted me to get outta there,” Daryl said, trying to convince himself more than her, she thought, but she could barely even remain upright, the desire to run there on foot to get back the only thing that mattered to her. Not what the law demanded, not her own life. Just Rick.

    _Rick._

   “Can ya do this, Jess? Can ya go in there and do this for him?”

 

 

   Her dress was made of black silk, sleeveless with a boat neck and rhinestone belt buckle, something that would look at home on Audrey Hepburn. Together with sky-high heels, red lips, and not a hair out of place, Jessica gave herself one last look in the mirror, the picture of Nana Turner sitting front and center on the table.

   Tonight, they were one, both in looks and in spirit, and though she was nearly sick with dread, she squared her shoulders as she walked out into the living room, coming face-to-face with Daryl. He was dressed in his uniform, his phone in hand so that he could come in the second she made it down to the basement, and tonight, she wasn’t leaving without her husband.

   And if Negan tried to stop her, well, she’d put a bullet in his brain, with Rick’s gun that was safely stashed in her purse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited for the party from Hell!! )


	36. Chapter 36

   “Everything all right, miss?”

   Jessica caught the Uber driver’s eye in the rearview mirror, and she gave him a smile and a nod. He was an older man in his sixties, perhaps driving people for something to do during his retirement, and when he’d arrived, she was in the driveway with Daryl, holding an intense conversation.

   They were going over plans for the night, and Daryl insisted over and over again that she call him in if anything felt even a hair off, but Jess told him that she wasn’t leaving that godforsaken factory without Rick. There was no discussion to be had. Her only goal in life was to get to Negan’s basement and call Daryl so that he could bring the whole fucking cavalry with him to free Rick and Larissa. 

   The cherry on top would be to see Negan’s hands in cuffs as he realized that Jessica was the one that stopped him. He’d never get what he wanted, and she prayed he’d get the death penalty for all the destructive and hateful things he’d done, not only to her, but to everyone in his life. 

   “Just saying goodbye to my friend,” she mentioned as Earl, the driver reversed his car towards the street. Her purse was sitting on her lap, and it was heavier than usual, weighed down by Rick’s Colt. She’d only ever used it once, but that would be enough. She didn’t want it to get to that point, but Jess was resolute that she was getting to her husband, even if she had to take a life of her own.

   As they drove into the evening, she kept her face turned towards the window, answering Earl’s innocuous questions as best she could, even though her mind was in overdrive and her body was preparing for ‘fight or flight’ mode. Every foot closer they got to the Sanctuary sent her into a nervous panic. She’d never even consider turning around, but the reality of what she was walking into began to manifest in a slight tremor of her fingers, and by the time they turned onto Industrial Road, they were shaking uncontrollably.

   The Sanctuary was anything but to her. It was a source of evil and pain, even though the drive was lit up with twinkling lights, and Earl let out a whistle of awe as it came into sight. “Must be a big deal,” he observed, following behind the other cars that were heading there. 

   “It’s a grand opening party,” Jess said, clasping her hands together to keep them from vibrating off her arms, the spotlights that were lighting up the building like a beacon, and she could feel Rick’s aura hanging over it. 

   Her heart lurched as they reached the main parking lot, seeing that there were television cameras from all three local news stations, and Earl hastily smoothed down his hair as they got closer, waiting their turn at the entrance. Like a true gentleman, he stopped the car, exiting to help her out with a hand extended. Jess passed him a twenty with a frozen smile, her brain starting to work overtime, so close to Rick. 

   “Will you be needing a ride home, miss?” Earl pocketed the money with a thankful nod of his head.

   “No, sir,” she murmured, keeping her head turned in case the cameras were rolling. “I’m meeting someone here.”

   “Have a good night,” he tipped an imaginary cap towards her, waiting until she went around the car before he got back in, and Jess swallowed down the abject fear that she was feeling as she trailed behind a few well-dressed couples, keeping a death grip on her purse. 

   Each step was excruciating, the anticipation laced with dread, and when the doors opened, she could hear a band playing soft jazz, her mouth dropping open at the scene inside. 

   The atrium was lit with soft candles and lanterns, affecting an enchanting glow that made the large room look more intimate than it actually was. All of the waiting areas had been transformed into places that people could congregate, with comfortable chairs, chaise lounges, and tables. There was also a bar at each corner of the room, and plenty of waiters milling through the already large crowd with hors d’oveures and champagne. 

   Negan had commissioned a sign to be made, one that advertised ‘Sanctuary for all’ above the entrance to his office area, and she felt a pang of sadness once again at the waste that was his life. He was a depraved human being disguised as a benefactor for the masses, and a part of her wondered what everyone would do if she came marching in with Larissa and Rick, showing them who he really was deep down inside. 

   Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard her name being called, and when she turned, she saw that it was Andrea and Phillip, both of whom appeared both surprised and dismayed to see here there. She’d purposely avoided telling them that she was attending, and it was for this very reason. 

   “Jessica, what the hell are you doing here?” Andrea took her firmly by the shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of her dress, and Phillip closed in behind her, managing to form a smile, though it was cautious. 

   “Ease up, Andrea,” she said, leveling her with a glare. “I was invited.”

   Blake gently retracted her arms, giving passersby a consoling nod, and Andrea seemed to remember where they were, her face clearing, though she was still staring at Jess, trying to decipher what was going on. If anyone would be able to see through her, it was her friend, and she repeated the same word over and over in her head, a mantra to keep her from losing it. Rick. Rick. Rick.

   “So, you’re rekindling a relationship with Negan?” 

   There was no venom behind the words, just an intense need to know why Jess was willingly stepping back into his world, especially so soon after Rick, and she took a deep breath as Phillip worked to diffuse the situation. 

   “I’m not rekindling a relationship,” she spoke slowly, trying not to blanch at the inference. “He and I have been trying to be cordial, to maintain a friendship since we’re both widowers.” _What a fucking lie_. He was, but she most certainly wasn’t, not if her love was still stuck just a few hundred feet away, and she unconsciously turned her body towards the offices where the entrance to the basement was. “He understands what I’m going through right now.”

   “Of course,” Blake murmured, kissing her cheek. “Whatever you need, don’t hesitate to ask.”

   For a fleeting moment, she wondered what he’d do if she told him to have a SWAT team storm this goddamned compound, but Jess managed a smile as Andrea put herself back together, looking abashed. Her friend was nothing if not protective, to the point of bossiness, and Jess knew it came from a place of deep caring. 

   “You look beautiful, sweetheart,” she said, holding her arms out, this time for a hug, and Jess took it, willing some of Andrea’s pit bull tendencies into herself.

   “So do you.”

   “How ‘bout me?” Phillip asked with a wink, and the two of them stood with their arms wrapped around each other as they made small talk. The entire time, she felt the urge to sprint towards the door, to race down to where Rick and Larissa were, the weight of her purse bringing her back to reality. 

   Jessica felt Negan’s presence in the room before she saw him, her eyes straying towards the bar in the back. He was surrounded by men and women, all of them listening attentively to whatever he was saying, his hands moving in sync with his mouth. Everyone else saw a handsome, engaging man with sparkling brown eyes and charisma that couldn’t be faked, but all she could see was the monster lurking underneath. The one that could drug a woman he claimed to love and kill someone that he considered a friend. Some _thing_ that saw nothing wrong with trapping other human beings like animals. A psychopath. 

   As if he knew she was watching, he looked up, startling her as he smiled sweetly, and he excused himself from the fawning crowd as one of Phillip’s assistants stepped up, asking the mayor if he’d mind doing an on-camera interview. The Blake’s followed the lights of the camera, and she was there, alone and vulnerable as Negan approached, looking at her so fondly that she almost vomited right on his shoes.

   “Hello, gorgeous,” he purred, taking her right hand as he leaned forward, kissing her cheek. Her left hand formed into a fist on its own, and she forced it against her thigh as she pasted a thin smile on her face.

   “Negan.”

   “I’m fucking thrilled you’re here.”

   “Not enough people kowtowing to you?” Jess tried to make it sound like a joke, and he let out a booming laugh, soaking up the attention of everyone around them.

   “You’re the only one that matters here,” he said, keeping ahold of her hand. “And you look stunning. Thank you for coming, Jessica.”

   “I’m happy to be here,” she averted her eyes, taking in the surroundings. That was the most honest thing she’d ever say to him in her life. “This looks amazing. Congratulations on such a big opening.”

   “Come with me, there are some people I want you to meet.”

   Negan tightened his grip on her hand, leading her around like a show horse through the atrium. Some of the people she knew from when they were dating, and others were complete strangers to her, but she remained the polite, demure ‘date’ that she was supposed to be, stuck to his side like Velcro for the first hour that she was there. 

   She wasn’t more than a few feet from him as he continued to greet just about everyone that showed up, growing antsier by the minute. When he was deep in conversation with his back turned, she slipped away, ducking behind a large guy with a ponytail, using him as a cover so that she could make her way over to the treatment door, turning the knob without looking around. For a split second, it didn’t turn, and she almost collapsed onto the ground, but it twitched in her hand, and she eased herself through the crack, letting out a shuddering breath as she shut it behind her. 

   Her heart was thudding in her chest as she listened to the sounds of revelry on the other side of the door. Jess wasn’t sure how long it would take Negan to miss her, but she waited a few beats before she started down the hallway, making it just past his office door when the tempo of the party got louder, and she stopped in her tracks, leaning against the wall, ready to scream.

   “Jess? What are you doing, gorgeous?”

   She turned, wiping a stray tear from her cheek as Negan came sauntering towards her, not exactly suspicious, but more put out that she wasn’t at his side, and when he saw that her eyes were glassy, he tilted his head to the side.

   “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just wanted to get a breath of fresh air. It’s a little overwhelming in there and I was going to use the side door. I hope you don’t mind. I probably should’ve asked you first.”

   “Honey, you can go wherever you want. It just scared the shit outta me when I turned around and you were gone. I thought you’d left.”

    _Not without my husband, fucker._

   “I’m not leaving, I’m just trying to get a handle on my…emotions, I guess. You’re welcome to join me.”

   His face lit up like she’d asked him to marry her, guiding her out into the night, where it was only the two of them under the stars, the garage light shut off, even as the rest of the factory was brightly lit. 

   While Negan ran his mouth about the turnout and the fact that the Sanctuary was going to be booked solid for the next three months, minimum, she palmed her purse, imagining herself taking out the Colt and just shooting him point-blank in the head, a maniacal laugh snaking it’s way through her system until she ended up coughing just to cover it up. 

   “You’re not cold, are you?”

   Jessica shook her head, keeping her eyes on him as he stepped closer to her, folding her arms around her waist to keep her purse to the side. “No, I’m good. It’s a beautiful night, actually.”

   “It is,” he agreed, rubbing her arms as she felt a chill, and when she looked up into his face, he bent down carefully, touching his lips lightly to hers. Jessica was willing to string this asshole along as much as she needed to in order to get him to let her off of her leash, and she pushed back just slightly, making the kiss more structured. It made Negan moan, low in his throat, and she wanted to shout, to rage, to tell him that she took it back, that she was taking it all back, but her Nana’s voice danced through her head, reminding her that she was not only a Grimes, but also a Turner.

   “ _We rise to the occasion because there are others that depend on us. You’re a Turner. Turners never falter.”_

   Rick and Larissa were depending on her, and she turned off her emotions, moving her lips mechanically until his tongue brushed against hers, making her eyes fly open as she took a step back. 

   “I’m fucking sorry, gorgeous. I’m not trying to push you. I just,” he exhaled loudly, tipping his forehead to rest it against hers. “I can’t control myself, sometimes.”

   “It’s fine,” she murmured, concentrating on his shirt buttons. “It’s still…raw, Negan. I know you understand how I feel. One minute I’m doing okay, and the next, I’m just, back there, hearing that he’s dead all over again.”

   “I know, sweetheart, I do,” Negan gave her some space by taking a step back, “and I’m not trying to rush this. But I feel like I was given a second chance with you, and I’m so fucking grateful that I forget how new this is to you.”

   The two stared at each other, him with clear affection and Jess with…forced ambivalence. “We should get back in. Everyone’s probably wondering where you are.”

   “Fuck em’,” Negan smiled, though he walked towards the door, holding it open for her. “The only one here that matters is you. Still, I should probably make my rounds.”

   As they made their way back into the atrium, the number of guests had increased to almost double what it was before, and Negan patted her lower back as a few women came immediately over when they caught sight of him, squealing with delight as he flashed them a smile, quickly turning and rolling his eyes to her. She grinned back before snaking her way through the crowd to get some distance, discreetly wiping her lips to take the feel of his away, wanting to scrub them to get his poison off of her.

 

 

 

   Negan listened with half an ear as the police commissioner’s wife droned on about a spa that she visited in Geneva, waxing poetic about the absolutely pristine facilities, inferring that it made her somewhat of an expert on the topic, but he knew what she was really after, and he plastered a smile on his face as she laid her hand on his upper arm, licking her lips.

   “I do hope you’ll give me a tour in a bit,” she said, her husband oblivious to her blatant attempts to get him alone, and he acquiesced, promising to take her around himself after he finished his rounds and greeted his guests. 

   He figured that it would buy him at least another hour or so before he’d be stuck with the broad, who stepped out on poor, unaware Felix Rivers so often, that most of the higher-ranking officials called her ‘Busy Lizzie’. She’d tried to entice Negan so many times that he’d pondered keeping an actual count. It was probably into double digits by now. She wasn’t unattractive, but her desperation to fuck him made him feel nothing but pity for her. There was only one woman who’s bed he wanted to be in, and she was across the room, speaking with Phillip and Andrea, looking both at ease and vibrating with tension. 

   She turned to peer at him, and he wanted to just sprint across the room and throw her over his shoulder, both to show Rick that she was his and to take her upstairs, where no one else could see her or touch her. She was his. Finally. She was here for _him_ , and he could taste it when she kissed him. Propriety was keeping her from fully giving in, the appearance of not being a grieving widow weighing on her mind.

   Fuck the world. They didn’t have a clue what Jess and Negan had. They were meant to be, and he had everything he ever wanted under one roof. The realization of his hard work, the adulation of Atlanta, and Jessica’s belief in him, her willingness to give their love another chance.

   That pride carried him over to the stage, and he took it to a round of applause and cheers, waving benevolently to the crowd of peers and those that looked up to him, seeking out one’s eyes in particular and flashing a brilliant grin in her direction.

   “Thank you,” he drawled, bowing his head as the roar continued, aware that the news cameras were on him. Being the center of attention always came easily for him, especially in college. Between baseball and captaining the debate team, Negan thrived under pressure and the glare of the spotlight. His voice was smooth and steady, and his physical prowess gave him an edge over everyone. “Tonight is a culmination of every dream I’ve ever had, and I’m lucky to have so many people here to celebrate with me.”

   He took two steps to the right, reaching out and shaking several hands as people began to crowd the stage, though Jess kept to the outer edges, standing between Andrea and Blake. 

   “When I envisioned the Sanctuary, I wanted it to be a place where people could feel safe. Safe enough to give control over to me so that I could enrich their lives. Make it better. Make _them_ better,” Negan felt a surge of raw power, knowing that he was going to make it happen. Men and women were going to seek him out and let him lead them to where they were supposed to be. “Here is where you can ease your mind and your body, and dedicate yourself to a healthier existence. Our staff is hand-picked to tend to your every need, and there is something for everyone, from a deep-tissue massage to exercise and yoga classes. The food is out of this world, if I do say so myself.”

   The crowd tittered, and he rubbed his flat stomach for emphasis. “I may or may not have snaked the head chef from La Rebelle,” he lowered his voice to almost a conspiratorial whisper. “So, eat, drink, and celebrate Atlanta’s sanctuary.”

   As everyone began to clap, he held up his finger for silence once more, wanting to say one more thing before the music resumed, and he placed his hand over his heart, speaking to just one member of the crowd. “As I said, this place houses my dreams, my hard work, and without my friends, it wouldn’t have ever come together as well as it has. And, I want to thank a certain friend in particular. One that helped me when I first started to dream big. She came up with ideas for the décor, and always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. So, thank you, Jessica. Thank you for just being you.”

   There were several ‘awws’ that rippled through the crowd, and he handed the microphone back to the band leader, giving him the signal. It was going to put her on the spot, but when the first notes of the song started to play, the crowd parted as he moved towards her, taking her hand before she could say no, leading her to just in front of the stage.

   It was their song, and Negan turned her slowly in a circle, even as her cheeks burned that enticing pink, being careful not to hold her too close. He didn’t want to make a fucking show of it, but he wanted to show her how things were going to be. Jess was the center of his world, and the words of the song were his promise to her, his unbreakable vow to do anything to make her happy. To make her feel his love.

   When she began to tremble in his arms, he hummed under his breath, reassuring her that it was going to be okay.

   Everything is going to be okay.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day of reckoning will be...this Friday. Thanks so much for reading and hanging in there!


	37. Chapter 37

   She wasn’t going to keep it together much longer. There were too many people around, unaware of what she was going through, and the sole reason just put her through yet another traumatic experience. Taking her song and perverting it into some public declaration of his feelings. Making a spectacle of her, like she was a prize that he’d rightfully won from Rick. Jessica wasn’t a person of her own sentience and desires in his view. She was just a prop to him, and it left her shivering and on the verge of a meltdown. 

   As the band wound down their version of her song, there was a burst of applause, and she shut her eyes so that she didn’t have to see Negan’s face, to witness him looking at her, though he hugged her to his chest, keeping her firmly in his arms. 

   “You have no idea-“

   He was interrupted, thankfully, buy a middle-aged couple, the woman of the duo casting a disdainful eye on her as she edged herself closer to Negan. Her husband seemed completely ignorant to the clear signals that she was putting out, and Jess wanted to kiss her, grateful for any excuse to get some space from him. 

   “Negan, darling, what a wonderful speech,” she trilled as her husband smiled genially, giving Jess a pat on her arm. Negan’s eyes flashed with undisputed rage for just a split second, and she almost wanted him to meltdown, for everyone to see the man that she knew he was, but he covered it up immediately, like he was readjusting his human mask. 

   “Why, thank you, Lizzie,” he said, keeping one hand on Jessica’s back. “This is the best night of my life, and this little bird is reason number one.” Negan drew Lizzie’s attention to her, and she reluctantly stuck out her hand, giving Jess a limp-fingered shake. “Jessica Turner- excuse me, Jessica Grimes, meet Gavin and Elizabeth Moore. Gavin is the police commissioner for our fine city.”

   “Pleasure to meet you,” she murmured, her eyes going towards Commissioner Moore. 

   “Ah, you’re…?” Gavin trailed off, taking Jessica’s head nod as an answer, and his grip became gentler, a light squeeze of acknowledgment. She thought that maybe he’d come to the memorial, but she wasn’t in her right head that day for obvious reasons, and the conversation ground to a halt. 

   “Jess, would you excuse me?” Negan asked, still radiating cold hospitality. “I promised to give the Moore’s a grand tour of the spa.”

   “Not at all,” she was ready to weep in relief, even as Negan’s plan clearly didn’t please Lizzie Moore, who wanted a more ‘private’ showing. “I want to check in with Andrea and Phillip, anyway.”

   A kiss to her hand, and he was moving through the crowd, having a little path created for him like he’d parted the Red Sea. Jess stayed rooted to the spot until he’d disappeared into the rear of the building, and after counting to ten, she took slow, calculating steps towards the office doors for the second time that evening. But this time, she wasn’t coming back out. If Negan showed up again, she was going to blow his fucking head off. 

   A sense of the divine took over when the band leader announced that they would be taking a fifteen-minute break, and it meant that she’d legitimately be able to ‘hear’ Rick’s cries for help. Daryl had warned her that he’d probably really be banging on the door or a pipe that ran over his cell, and he cautioned her several times to be cognizant of the security cameras. 

   “Ya need to play up to them,” he said, looking at her seriously. “Make it look like ya heard something, and you’re going to investigate.”

   “I will,” she swore. Jess wasn’t an actress, but she’d managed to make Negan think that he didn’t repulse her over the last few weeks, so if anyone deserved a fucking Oscar, it was her. This was the performance of her life. 

   With her back to the door, she stood against it for a moment like she was catching her breath, and with a sweeping hand to her neck, she reached behind her, easing the knob in a circle, and as she did a preliminary check to make sure there wasn’t any attention on her, she slipped back into the hallway.

   Trying to keep her pace casual, she stopped where the hallway opened up, the door to the basement steps away, bracing herself on the corner of the wall like she was just taking a second to gather her thoughts. 

   And then it happened. A voice behind her.

   “Jess?”

 

 

   “Larissa, pass me that wrench.”

   Rick was lying on his stomach, his arm poking through the hole that connected his cell to hers, waiting for the largest tool that she could find. Her space, unlike his, was filled with supplies. Random tools, tarps, and a few buckets of paint. Negan didn’t think that Larissa would ever try anything, and he obviously didn’t know about the brick that Rick had been able to loosen, giving them an untenable access to each other, a connection with a fellow human being. It had kept them both from losing touch with reality for the last several days, and though Larissa wasn’t treated nearly as bad as he was, the girl was in a tremulous state, on the verge of dying just as much as he was.

   They were depending on Jess to help them get free, and it made him ill down to his bones, the fact that she was in harm’s way. But the party had been going on for over an hour at least, not that he had any way of telling time, and the dull strains of music had finally cut off. It was time for him to nut up, to make as much noise as he possibly could to provide Jazz enough reason to come down to the basement to investigate, if she truly was up there somewhere.

   A grain-sized sliver of him hoped that she wasn’t, that she was home just trying to move on, never mind that it would mean that he’d never get out of here. If Negan ever figured out that she knew beforehand that Rick was alive, he feared what was going to happen to her. But the urge to live, to get out and protect his family made him use the limited strength he had, and he stood on his tiptoes as Larissa whimpered on the other side of the wall. 

    _Clang. Clang. Clang._

   Methodically, he smacked the wrench against the pipe, creating a loud sound, his final cry for help, and he whispered to himself, a prayer. “Please, Jess. Please.”

 

 

 

    Turning around with wide eyes, she saw that it was Phillip who was following her down the hall, and she slumped to the side, her eyes filling up. She was never going to be alone to do this, and her head smacked against the wall. Phillip was Negan’s friend and he’d tell him what she was doing, he’d protect his friend…

   “Hey, are you okay?”

   “No, Phillip, I’m not.” She was honest, over everything that was going on, and she was hanging on by a thread. She couldn’t lie anymore.

   “I’m worried about you, Jess. Whatever’s going on with you and Negan is concerning,” he reached her, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, dotting her face to wipe away the tears. “He’s my oldest friend in the world, but whatever’s occurring between you two isn’t healthy, sweetheart. You’re still in mourning, and he’s taking advantage of that.”

   “I don’t-“ she choked out, feeling a wave of hysteria, “I’m not, it’s not like that.” 

   “Jess-“

   She whimpered when a clanging sound began to float through the atmosphere, the two turning their heads at the same time. It was coming from him, from the basement, and Phillip edged towards the sound. “What it that? The furnace?”

   Jess elbowed around him, taking two steps towards the door, unlatching the bolt that kept it locked. “Jess, we should get Negan if the furnace is acting up.”

   She didn’t respond, her heart beating in time with the sound of metal on metal. Phillip followed her down the steps and around the corner, where the volume increased, and her vision started to tunnel as she got closer, two metal doors sitting side by side with a stool in between them.

   “Hello? Is someone down here?” 

   It wasn’t her that called out, it was Blake, and he bypassed her towards the doors, the sound cutting off abruptly. 

   “Who…who’s out there?”

   A shrieking moan fell from her lips as she heard the weak voice of Rick, her knees buckling as she hit the ground. Phillip stopped in his tracks, torn between concern for her and disbelief, bordering on hysteria. “R-Rick?”

   A part of her brain was screaming at her, telling her to get the phone, use the phone, get Daryl here before he could get taken away from her, and with fingers that were barely working, she wrenched the phone from her purse, pressing the call button.

 

 

 

   Negan kept moving at an accelerated pace, not trying to seem rushed, but definitely keeping Gavin and Lizzie on track, despite the fact that Lizzie had run her hand along his ass twice now. They’d already gone through the first floor, looking over every spa, exercise area, and kitchen, and they were on the second level, making their way through the private rooms.

   “Oh, these beds look so luxurious,” Lizzie exclaimed, bending over to put the weight of her hands on the mattress, sticking her ass out for emphasis. “I’m just dying to try one.” A laden look accompanied the words, like he was too fucking stupid to figure out what she was insinuating, and he gave her a smirk, trying to keep Gavin from catching on to what she was doing. 

   “Well, you’ll need to wait a while, since we’re booked solid for the next few months,” he laughed, clapping Gavin on the back. 

   Lizzie attempted what she probably thought was a sexy pout, and Negan turned his attention to Gavin, engaging him in the finer points of wellness and mental health. He was able to avoid Lizzie’s wandering hands until they reached the third floor, when Gavin excused himself to use the restroom, and she rounded on him in the hallway, draping her arms around his neck. 

   “This isn’t the kind of tour I had in mind,” she said, pressing her tits into his chest. They were fake, hard points, and he freed himself as gently as he could, putting enough space between them that Gavin could do cartwheels through, and he shook his head with a smile.

   “My girl is downstairs, Lizzie,” he made it sound almost regretful, but there was an implicit warning in the words. “It’s the biggest night of my professional and personal life. What kind of man would I be if I hurt her like that?”

   “You’d be _you_ , Negan,” Lizzie laughed, fussing with her hair as her cheeks flushed. “The whole goddamned town knows what you're like. I just wanted to have my turn.”

   His phone beeped before he could say anything, a dull anger starting to percolate in his veins, and he pulled it from his jacket, his jaw tightening when he saw that it was the alarm to Rick’s cell. Maybe it was just a fluke, a gust of wind or something, and he shut off the warning, keeping the phone in his hand. 

   “There won’t be a turn,” he said, and Lizzie backed up, her mouth popping open at the look on his face. “I love this girl, and I’m asking her to marry me, so whatever little ride you were looking to take with me, you can just fucking consider it canceled. Are we understood?”

   “You can’t talk to me like that,” she hissed, clamping her mouth shut when they heard the bathroom door in Room twenty-two open up. 

   “Sorry,” Gavin apologized, meeting them in the hall, looking quizzically at the two of them. “Is everything all right?”

   “We should get back downstairs,” Negan told him smoothly, sweeping his arm out to the side as his phone beeped again, showing another alert. “I’m getting a notification about something important, and I should really check it out before too long.”

   Lizzie stormed off ahead of them, but she was forgotten as soon as she was out of sight, and Negan forced himself to continue making idle chitchat with Gavin as they descended to the first floor. 

   When they made it back to the atrium, he began to head towards the basement access when the flash of red and blue lights began to filter in from the front entrance, making the entire room go silent in confusion. Negan pushed his way through the crowd to the front door, his mind racing and his body filling with rage as at least six cop cars came flying up the lane, swarming the factory.

 

 

 

   Jess was still on the ground, just feet from the cell as voices rose and fell around her, a swarm of men filing the area like angry bees. The buzzing was background as she stared at the wall, her phone still sitting limply in her hand.

   Daryl was there somewhere, she thought, and Phillip was prowling through the hallway, barking out orders to the cops that had shown up like knights storming a castle. Still, Rick was there, she hoped, still thinking that this was a dream, an unholy nightmare that she’d consigned herself to. 

   Shroedinger’s cat. The old joke from the sitcom wherein something was both alive and dead, or neither. That’s how she felt at that juncture. Rick was dead and she was alone. Rick was alive and she was alone. 

   Until someone physically hauled her off the floor, a man with a buzz cut and a mouth moving, though she couldn’t really comprehend what he was saying. A group of officers were battering at the doors, both of them since there were no keys to be found, and the _bam bam bam_ of the sound tinkled around in her head, taking up the same space as the clanging of the pipe which sent her down here with Blake. 

   She watched, transfixed as the door began to buckle, and with an ear-splitting wail, it collapsed in on itself, falling into the blackness that it held in. A distant drumbeat swallowed the space, and she was somehow aware that it was her own heart as she took one, then two steps forward, shaking off someone’s attempt to hold her back. She had to see with her own eyes.

   Sickly. Pale. But there were blue irises straining to peer into the light, and she let out a scream that stopped everyone in their tracks, running headlong into arms that felt too weak to hold her, but did just the same. A cold shudder ripped through her body like an earthquake as she moaned his name over and over again, the only word her brain would let her form. 

   “Rick.”

   He was dead no more. Alive, and holding her, telling her that he loved her, she thought. She couldn’t really be sure since she was unable to hear anything but the beat of her own heart, now sped up to a level that would be impossible to maintain. It would either give out while she was in his arms, or stop completely, and the rest of the world would have to wait its turn.

 

 

 

   Daryl couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Maybe when he was seven, and Merle had left the house after fighting with their father, slamming the door and telling his brother that he was on his own.

   The sound of a motorcycle kicking up rocks and dirt assured him that yes, Merle was gone, and he was left to deal with an abusive alcoholic on his own, his mother face down in bed sleeping off her latest bender. 

   If Merle wasn’t around to take a beating, Daryl was the next best thing, and he could hear his dad calling his name, the snap of a belt against his palm echoing in his ears, and he took off through the front window, running as fast as his legs could carry him, calling to Merle to come back, to take him with him where he was going as his vision blurred.

   Years ago to him, but the tears never left his memories, toppled now as he watched Jessica go flying into the cell, seeing Rick for the first time since he was presumed dead. He only had his own feelings to go on, but if the rush of seeing someone that important to _him_ left him feeling breathless, he could only imagine what she was going through, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat, discreetly wiping the corner of his eyes as ten officers formed a semi-circle around the entrance. 

   Every one of the men that answered the call had known Rick, and the second he came sprinting into the building after Jessica called him, whispering nonsensical words, he relayed to dispatch a code twenty-one, asking for assistance from all available vehicles. 

   He knew the layout, and he came bursting through the front door, shouting for people to get the fuck out of his way, gasps trailing behind him as he drew his gun, taking the steps to the basement two at a time. 

   Mayor Blake was there, hand covering his mouth as Jess was in some sort of catatonic state. Daryl didn’t trust him, Negan’s friend, even though Jess knew him, and he ordered him back ten steps as he sized up the situation, checking every part of the basement thoroughly, looking for Negan. 

   “It’s…Rick,” Blake stammered, looking so pale that he might pass out. “Rick’s in that room. There’s…a female in the other one.”

   Shock eventually turned to anger as more officers showed up on the scene, and Blake demanded that someone find Negan as soon as possible. Two cops retreated up the steps to control the crowd that had attempted to stream into the hallway to see what was going on, and Daryl ordered two others to get something to open up the doors.

   When they were set up to assist, he stood back, keeping one hand on Jessica, and when Rick’s face appeared through the doorway, she wrenched herself free, going to him with a force that set everyone on their heels. 

   The next few minutes were a blur as Rick was gingerly helped out, Jess never leaving his side, and paramedics were ushered through to load him onto a gurney. The girl, Larissa, was carried out by Officer Steele, a burly man that towered over everyone in the basement but Blake, who looked like he was going to vomit on the floor. Her face was hidden by lank, stringy hair that hung in her face, and Daryl watched as grown men looked ill. 

   They had seen many disturbing things in their careers, but it never got any easier, and to have such a fucked up situation going down at a place that billed itself as sanctuary was too much for Blake, who let out a thundering command for someone to bring him the police commissioner and Negan in under two minutes.

   His face went from white to bright red as he caught Daryl’s eye, and the two men slowly made their way towards each other, Blake jerking his head for Daryl to follow him down the hall to a corner of the basement. 

   “Did you know?”

   The question was asked, barely above a whisper, and Daryl looked him dead in the eye, refusing to speak. “What the fuck? How…how was he capable of this?”

   “He’s _your_ friend,” Daryl snapped, refusing to buckle under his accusatory stare. “How did you not know he was capable of some heinous shit like this?”

   “Phillip? Let me through, goddamnit!”

   Andrea’s panicked voice came floating down the hall, and Blake smoothed his face into a mask of control, leaning down into Daryl’s face. “My office. First thing in the morning.”

   “Honey, you shouldn’t be down here,” his voice was surprisingly calm as Andrea came rushing towards him. “We have a very serious situation going on.”

   “What’s happening? No one will tell me what’s going on and Negan’s missing-“

   “What?” 

   Daryl fingered his gun, bracing himself to take off at a run as Andrea looked at him with tears and mascara streaming down her face. 

   “There are cops upstairs searching for Negan, but they can’t find him.”

   A strangled yell slipped from his throat as Blake physically pushed him forward.

   “Find him, Dixon. You fucking find him, dead or alive.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're out!!!


	38. Chapter 38

   The sirens blared as the ambulance started down the road, taking them away from the Sanctuary, and Jess held onto the bench with one hand, refusing to let go of Rick with the other. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to let go again, and judging by the lack of bloodflow into her fingers, he seemed to feel the same way. The only time they lost eye contact was when the paramedic’s arms moved in between them to check his pulse and heart rate. 

   Was this a dream, or was the past month just a nightmare? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t judge reality from fiction anymore. Jess knew that Rick was gone, and she was positive that Rick was alive. If it really was a dream, she didn’t want to ever wake up again. 

   “Heart rate is steady. Pulse is strong,” the guy said to both of them or no one in particular. “You’re dehydrated, sir, so they’ll want to start an IV at the hospital as they check you over.”

   Rick nodded, not taking his eyes off of her, just running his thumb across the top of her hand. She looked down to make sure it was real, that it wasn’t a phantom memory, and she saw that he was still wearing his ring. Seeing it sent her into a crying jag, and he let her get it out, just rubbing her skin soothingly from his spot on the gurney, the paramedic busying himself writing notes as they sped towards the hospital. There was no reason to blow through traffic, but they did it anyway because Phillip told them to, Jess found out later.

   When they pulled into Metro Emergency, they cut the lights, though there was a cop car that followed them that kept theirs running. The back doors opened up, and one of Rick’s brethren helped her down, freeing up space for the medics to wheel him inside, and she followed behind, nearly losing her shit when they stopped her at the entrance. Jess could hear Rick calling for her, but the double doors shut automatically. One of the cops held her from behind, but she fought until he carried her back out to the lot, clamping down hard on her shoulders.

   “Stop,” he roared, and she blinked up at his face, growing still. It took her a second to recognize that it was Dick Jacobs, Rick’s onetime partner. They’d worked together long before he and Jess had started dating, but they’d seen each other several times over the years. “You need to calm down, Jess.”

   She opened her mouth to verbally berate him for saying the stupidest fucking thing a person could say to another human being in such a situation, but he leaned down, patting the top of her shoulder. “He’s safe, now. There’s no way anything is going to happen here. They just need to check him over, and then they’ll let you in.”

   “I can’t…” she choked on her words, slumping in his hold. “I need to be with him, Dick.”

   “And you will be,” he assured her. “But you’d probably better call Carl.”

   Jess gasped, her knees almost buckling underneath her. How the fuck could she forget about Carl? The news crews were probably still at the Sanctuary, and if they found out what was going on, it was going to be all over Atlanta in hours. She couldn’t let him find out like this, and she reached for her purse, coming up empty. It was sitting somewhere in the basement of the factory, most likely.

   Dick led her back into the waiting room, requesting permission for Jess to use their phone. They led her to a private consultation room, and he stood outside as she dialed Carl’s number with trembling fingers. It rang four times before he picked up, and she mumbled out his name, but he only offered a curt ‘what?’ as a greeting.

   It took her a second to remember that he was still pissed at her, having left her standing alone in the drive earlier. He thought that she’d let Negan back into her life because she had feelings for him, and she expelled a deep breath in the stony silence, trying to make her voice work.

   “C-“ She had to clear her throat to get his name out. “Carl,” she tried again, and he broke in, the tone of his voice going from irritated to borderline frightened. 

   “Jess? What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

   “I…I need you to come to Metro Emergency.”

   “What happened? Did he hurt you?”

   “Carl, please,” she panted, the urge to blurt out the truth building in her chest. “ I can't tell you over the phone. Just come now.”

   Hanging up, she wiped her face, coming away with a sticky mixture of makeup and tears. Fuck, she felt like shit, and she ducked into the adjacent bathroom, shocked at how horrible she actually looked. Puffy, red eyes. Tear tracks down her cheeks and Alice Cooper mascara running down her cheeks. She wet a paper towel and cleaned her face as best she could before going out to wait for Carl. It only took him about fifteen minutes to come careening into the parking lot, and he left the car in the fire line, jogging towards her.

   “What happened? Are you okay?”

   “We need to talk,” Jess took him firmly by the hand and led him back to the private room. Jacobs was still guarding the area, though he was murmuring into the radio that sat on his shoulder, giving Carl a perfunctory nod. As she shut the door to allow them some privacy, Carl rounded on her, holding his arms out.

   “You’re freaking me out, Jess. What is happening?”

   “I…it’s about your dad,” she fumbled with her words. There was no easy way to start this conversation, and he backed towards the conference table, bumping into it.

   “Oh, God. Did…did they find…did they find his body?”

   Clearly, Carl didn’t expect this late evening meet up to be about Rick, and his face went ghostly white as Jess took unsteady steps towards one of the conference chairs, sitting down on the edge of it. “He’s alive, Carl.”

   His legs went out from under him, and he hit the floor with a thump, prompting her to drop down next to him. Crawling on her hands and knees, Jess pulled him into her chest, squeezing him so tightly that he huffed loudly. “He’s here, and they’re checking him out. We can see him soon.”

   Freeing himself, he shoved her, not hard, but enough to startle her. “Dad’s dead, Jess. Why the hell would you say something like that?”

   “No, he’s alive. He’s here.”

   “He’s gone,” Carl shouted in her face, jumping up to his feet. “He’s gone and he’s not coming back. Ever.”

   Jess dug her nails into the top of the table, using it as leverage to get to her feet, kicking off her heels as he took long strides towards the door. As soon as he got through, Dick stopped him with a hand to the chest, making him skitter back. “I could hear you yelling through the door, son.”

   “I’m not your son,” Carl hissed, trying to force his way past the guy and not getting anywhere. “I don’t know what the hell is going on around here, but I’m leaving.”

   Dick shook his head, blocking him completely. “Sit down.” Carl ignored him, adopting a rigid statue, and Dick repeated the order, much more forcefully. He jerked his head towards were Jess was standing, and Carl finally stomped over towards the wall, at least not trying to get away again.

   Taking a deep breath, Jess tried once more to explain what the hell was happening, editing the story to the version that didn’t include Daryl breaking and entering the Sanctuary. 

   “I was trying to get some fresh air at the party when Phillip came out into the hallway with me,” she told him. “We were talking, and we heard a thumping noise, like metal hitting metal.” Carl’s eyes narrowed as she spoke, his head shaking from side to side in denial. “Blake thought it was the furnace, but we went down to the basement to check, and…”

   “Your dad was there, son,” Dick finished for her. “We don’t know what happened and why, but he’s alive. I saw him myself.”

   Jess risked another outburst, coming over as his eyes started to fill up, and she swallowed down the fear of him hating her, because it was on her that they even mourned him. Negan stole Rick away from them because of his sick obsession with her, and she just needed Carl to forgive her. 

   “He’s going to pay for what he’s done,” she said, holding her arms out and waiting for him to move. “We’ll be sitting in the front row when they gas the fucker. All of us.”

   Carl glanced quickly at Dick before studying her face, and what he saw there made him relax. He understood the pleading look on her face, one that said, ‘understand where I was coming from’. He returned her embrace, and she whimpered when he told her that he was sorry. 

   “I’ve never lied to you Carl,” Jess sniffled, resting her lips on his shoulder. “Everything I do is for you two.”

   They stayed locked together until there was a knock on the door, both of them looking terrified as a doctor came in, the same one that took care of Carl when he got in the accident a few months before. Dr. Fisher gave them a gentle smile, ushering them to the table so that they could talk. 

   “Carl, you’re looking well,” he observed, and the three of them sat down as Dick shut the door softly. The man seemed cautiously optimistic as he folded his hands together, looking from her to Carl. “I understand that this is a shock to both of you, and I honestly can’t even begin to fathom the emotional wallop that this has given you, but I want to assure you that your father,” he acknowledged Carl, “and your husband is going to be okay.”

   Jess took a shuddering breath, and Dr. Fisher gave her a second to compose herself. It wasn’t a fantasy. They were really here, and Rick was going to recover. 

   “Given the length of his…internment, there is obviously some physical concerns.”

   “Such as?” Jess was almost afraid to know what Negan had done to him.

   “He’s suffering from malnutrition, for one,” Dr. Fisher suppressed a sigh. “He informed us that he’d been given only peanut butter sandwiches for the most part along with one bottle of water a day. Aside from that, he’s got two fractured ribs, along with several bruises and contusions.”

   Jessica’s fists slammed down on the table, making Carl jump as she thought about the hell of the last month and a half. The entire time that they were in mourning, Rick was suffering down in that fucking basement. Negan was responsible for every bit of pain in her life for the past year, and she wanted to kill him herself and watch the life fade from his body. The only comfort that came out of this was that he was never going to hurt anyone again. Daryl would make sure that he was behind lock and key forever.

   “He’s speaking with detectives right now, but you’ll be able to see him shortly,” the doctor continued, seemingly unaffected by her reaction. “We’d like to keep him overnight to monitor him and run a few more tests, but I expect that he’ll be able to be released tomorrow.”

   “Thank you,” Carl spoke for the two of them, using one arm to wrap around her back and the other to shake Dr. Fisher’s hand, and Jess was once again struck at the composure that he was able to command given the situation that they were currently experiencing. 

   “I’m not a psychologist, but I highly recommend that you consider seeing a therapist, both individually and as a family,” he said gently, reaching out and touching both of them on the hand. “You’ve been through an extraordinary circumstance, and there’s a lot for you to process.”

   With that, he left them alone, going back to supervise the ER, and Jess let her head drop to the table, breathing heavily. Carl sat next to her, rubbing her back until he finally tapped her on the shoulder, and she looked at him with red eyes. He seemed to want to say something, opening his mouth and then closing it quickly.

   “I know, honey,” she said, resting her cheek on the cool wood as she shut her eyes. “But I can’t…I can’t talk about it right now.”

   “It’s okay. I should probably call my mom, though.”

   Jess sniffled, moving her head incrementally as he stood up, wanting to speak with her in private. It occurred to her that she should probably reach out to some people herself, and with a heaving grunt, she walked over to the phone, dialing Andrea’s number. She picked up immediately, no doubt seeing the caller id, and she could hear a commotion over the line. They were still at the Sanctuary, and she launched into a hysterical tirade, nearly incomprehensible.

   “Andrea,” she screeched, pinching the top of her nose, and the other woman quieted immediately. “Listen, I know you’re freaking out. We all are. But I need you to do me a favor.”

   “Anything,” Andrea pledged, the sound of heels clicking as she started walking. The background noise lessened, and eventually went silent, save for a whooshing sound that was probably the wind. 

   “I need you to call Michonne and Aaron and let them know what’s going on. I can’t talk to anyone right now, but I don’t want them to find out from someone else. I just need some time to adjust to everything.”

   “I’ll do it,” she sounded more like herself, more in control, and it was as much for Jess as it was for Andrea that she’d asked it of her. Andrea was spiraling, no doubt, and this would give her something to focus on, to keep her from freaking out more than she already was. “What about your parents?”

   Jess knew it was a call she should make herself, but she was emotionally and physically spent, and she asked Andrea to notify them as well along with a promise that she could phone them tomorrow to tell them everything. Her mom and dad would probably hop on a plane to fly in first thing in the morning, and she was fine with that. She just needed tonight with Rick and Carl so that they could be alone together. 

   As they finished up their conversation, Andrea offered her some heartfelt love and a teary proclamation that everything was going to work out, eventually. Jess wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she didn’t have enough energy to ask her to clarify. There was already too much turmoil in her world, and she couldn’t take anything else. 

   Carl didn’t return for at least a half-hour, and when he did, he was subdued, sporting splotchy cheeks and a cup of coffee for her. All they could do was wait, and wait, they did. It was after midnight when they were finally led from the conference room through the waiting area, past dozens of police officers, all of whom were standing at attention, making her think that something had happened for a split second, the image of it so similar to Rick's memorial. 

   She and Carl clung to each other as their procession took them inside the Emergency Room, down an open walkway and along a nurse’s station, an open cubicle of staff, computers, patient boards, and Dr. Fisher, who gave them an encouraging nod. There were thirty rooms, all of which were occupied, and Jess spied Rick’s name on the board as they passed. He was in room thirty, down the hall and to the left, the last room on the left. It was guarded by two officers, who quickly stepped aside to let them pass.

   Carl came to an abrupt stop, seeming hesitant to enter, and she knew how he was feeling. Right now, he was in between hope and terror, knowing that whatever lay on the other side of the door was going to change everything. With a gentle shove, she propelled him forward, and as he eased into the small room, he started to cry in earnest.

   Laying in the hospital bed was his father, looking pale and exhausted, with large blue-black bags under his eyes and at least a week’s worth of stubble. There was an iv sticking out of his arm, looking so spindly that it seemed like his bones would crack and crumble with the slightest touch. But his eyes were clear and bright, and when he saw that Carl was here, he let out a weak sob. “Carl.”

   Launching himself at Rick, Carl reverted to the child that Jess first knew him as, watching in awe as the boy crawled on top of his dad, burying his face in his neck. “Dad,” he sobbed, taking unsteady breaths, and Jess took one of the chairs, scooting it close to the head of the bed, reaching out to touch the two of them. 

   “Thank you,” Rick mouthed at her, seeking her fingers as his other hand kept Carl’s head firmly against him.

   “I love you,” she whispered back, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it softly. From this day on, they were never going to be parted, not even for a night. It was a vow that she intended to keep, the same as the ones that she said in Vegas when they married. She would love and cherish him for the rest of her days. 

   It wasn’t comfortable, and it wasn’t ideal, but their first night reunited found Rick, Jess, and Carl sharing a twin bed, smashed up against each other. No one told them they could do it, and no one told them they couldn’t. Considering everything that they’d been through, both separately and together, the staff at Metro wouldn’t even dream of separating the Grimes family, and for a few hours, they were left in peace, with guards to protect them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunited, and it feels so good!


	39. Chapter 39

   Jess walked down the hall nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears as the hospital staff bustled around her, some giving her a smile and others just staring curiously. She was wearing a pair of their scrubs, thankfully given by Nurse Weatherly so that she didn’t have to move around the building still dressed in her outfit from the night before.

   She, Rick, and Carl had slept together in a tiny hospital bed, and though they were squished uncomfortably, none of them wanted to complain. The fact that they were together was enough, though everyone had dry, bleary eyes by the time daylight came, and Lori came bursting into the room in near hysterics following by Shane. Everyone else was being barred from visiting, and Jess was regretting telling Carl to have them come in.

   They were understandably upset and confused about how Rick ended up in the situation that he’d been in, and maybe it was her own guilt, but Jess could swear that she saw blame in Lori’s eyes, directed at her. Negan was her ex, and Rick wouldn’t have been kidnapped and nearly murdered if it wasn’t for her.

   While Carl tried to get a word in edgewise, Jess stepped out into the hall, taking a centering breath. Rick didn’t try to stop her, he knew that she needed to get away from Lori, though Shane did pat her shoulder as she passed. The guilt would probably never go away, and Nurse Weatherly came up with a consoling smile, asking her if she wanted to freshen up.

   As they walked to the bathroom, the other woman stopped at a supply closet, gifting her with a pair of scrubs, toiletries, and privacy, closing the door and leaving her with a chance to get her bearings. The face staring back at her was pale and lined with worry. Her eyes were bloodshot, making the blue even brighter, and her hair was a mess. There was no other word to call it.

   Stepping out of the dress, she tossed it into the trash, putting the little tan socks with slip guards on and changing into the dark blue scrubs. Her teeth felt about a thousand times smoother once she brushed them, but it took a good five minutes to get all of the tangles out. More than a few strands ended up in her hands, and as she stared at them, Larissa suddenly popped into her mind.

   There wasn’t a more self-absorbed person alive than her, and Jessica opened the door, nearly falling on her ass when she tried to jog over to the nurse's station to rectify the feeling.

   “Larissa…” she blanked on her last name. “She was brought in with my husband,” she told the doctor that was sitting with a tape recorder, dictating notes. “Is she here?”

   The older gentleman looked up, seeming to recognize her, and he held up his finger, sliding the chair over to a young girl that couldn’t have been more than twenty-one. They conferred for what felt like forever, and as she waited, Jess glanced at the board, her attention going to the name ‘Grimes’, written in bold letters. What the fuck was her last name?

   Smith, O’Brien, Washington. They were also written on the board, but none of them sounded right. As she tried to remember, the physician rolled back over, and she blanked out as he stood up, smoothing down his white coat. “Miss Desmond is still being evaluated, and we’re keeping her isolated at this time.”

   “Is there any way I could get a message to her, at least?” Desmond. Fucking fuck, why couldn’t she remember that?

   “Sure.”

   “Can you…can you just tell her Jessica Grimes asked after her?”

   “That’s it?”

   She wasn’t going to tell him anything personal, and she nodded as he walked out of the station, heading down the opposite hall, leaving her standing there, unsure of what to do. Lori and Shane were probably still in Rick’s room, and she had no desire to sit there with them, getting dirty looks and scandalized gasps.

   It ended up not mattering, because as she started to walk back, Daryl came striding through the Emergency Room, and Jess rushed for him, tackling him with a sighing sound.

   “Where the fuck have you been?”

   “Jesus, Jess,” he grunted, though he hugged her tightly, smelling of fresh air and cigarettes. “I been up all night.”

   As he set her down, she got a good look at his face, and she knew something hadn’t gone right. “What happened after I left?”

   “Come on,” he took her hand, leading her back towards Rick’s room, but she pulled him to a stop, refusing to move. “Jess, just come on an’ I’ll explain.”

   “Shane and Lori are in there.”

   “Then I’ll kick ‘em the fuck out.”

   He had a ‘give no fucks’ attitude, even more than normal, and she shut her mouth, backtracking to room thirty. When they walked in, Rick’s face lit up in relief, and Lori scrambled out of the way as the two men embraced. A lump formed in Jessica's throat as she watched them, the hero and the rescued, but she felt the stares of another on her, and she turned her head to see Lori shaking hers, giving her a death look.

   “I need ta see Jess and Rick alone,” Daryl growled when he straightened up, shooting Shane a look as Lori spluttered.

   “We just got here,” she sniffled, holding her belly as Jess felt her teeth grind together. “After everything that happened, don’t you think we should be in the loop?”

   “Mom, he’s not your husband anymore, he’s Jessica’s,” Carl pointed out, and she wanted to kiss him for running interference, because if she spoke up, it would be brutal. “If Daryl needs to talk to them, we should step out. Come on,” he said, taking her by the hand as her cheeks got ruddy. “Let’s go to the cafeteria.”

   Jess folded her arms, staring at Lori in defiance as Shane tried to be the peacemaker like he always was. “Come on, honey. You need to eat.”

   Carl herded them out, giving her a wink, and she visibly relaxed once they were gone, taking the seat next to Rick’s right side. He took her hand, threading their fingers together, and Daryl dragged a metal stool over, sitting down uncomfortably, looking at Jess and not his best friend.

   “I’m glad yer okay,” he mumbled, ducking his head to wipe his nose. “Seein’ ya come out of that room was…hard.”

   “Thanks to you, brother,” Rick’s voice was choked as well, and he set his free hand on Daryl’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “I knew you’d come.”

   She was watching the two of them struggling with their emotions, men who sometimes couldn’t tell another male what they truly meant to each other, and Jess drank in the raw emotion that permeated the room, so thankful that she had him back.

   Daryl cleared his throat, and Jess mentally prepared herself to hear about Negan’s capture. It was obviously why it took so long for him to arrive, and she sat up at attention, hoping that Daryl at least got to pistol-whip the fucker. She wanted him to be barely alive, in absolute agony.

   “After the ambulance left, me an’ the other law enforcement did a sweep of the factory to take Negan in,” he said, looking at his hands. “There were over two hundred people there, and it took a long time to get statements and secure the crime scene.”

   “And?”

   He gave Rick a fleeting look before turning his focus to Jess and she felt her vision starting to tunnel, his voice becoming distorted as her second greatest fear came true. “He managed to escape, and we’re still looking for him.”

   His mouth kept moving, but she only heard a whooshing noise, and her head bobbed up and down until Rick steadied it, forcing her to pay attention to what was being said.

   “…took off through the back field. There was a shed halfway between the factory and the road behind in the woods. It looks like he had a car or something stashed there, ‘cause there are tracks through the brush that led to the street.”

   “You-“ her voice was wheezy and disjointed as she felt the burning pull of vomit rising in her throat. “You don’t know where he is?”

   Daryl got up and came around the foot of the bed, bending down so that he could speak directly to her, and she felt an earthquake coming, altering her reality and fracturing it into something unknowable. “No, but we have every law enforcement officer in the state armed with his picture, Jess. We’ll find him, I swear.”

   Everybody swore. They all swore and promised and lied and said that she was protected. That Rick was dead and Negan was a good guy, but she knew the truth. Rick would never be safe because of her, and she pushed around Daryl, sprinting from the room and heading towards the bathroom, just making it before she threw up.

   Once she started, it was hard to stop, and it wasn’t until she felt herself being scooped up that she was even aware that she was crying, looping her arms around Daryl’s neck and hiding her face as he carried her back to Rick, setting her carefully in the bed next to him.

   “I’m sorry, Rick. I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “Please hate me.”

   His chest was steady underneath her as the door closed softly, and she counted his breaths as she slid her hand up to his cheek, whimpering like a wounded animal. Whatever she did, it would never be enough to protect him from a monster, one that she’d willingly brought into his life. She needed to hear him cuss her out, to tell her that she was shit, but all she got was his calm, even breathing until she was all cried out.

   When she looked up, she didn’t see any disappointment or accusation in his eyes, only love, and it burned her that he couldn’t place any of this at her feet. “Please, Rick. Just leave me. _Hate_ me and be done with me.”

   “Never. I love you too much.”

   “You’re going to-“

   He placed his finger to her lips to shut her up, kissing her forehead at the same time, and she quelled her thoughts, swallowing hard, even as she felt the urge to puke again.

   “Listen to me, Jazz. None of this is your fault. Negan is clinically insane. He was long before you came along, and even if you were the trigger for his behavior, you’re not the cause. Do you understand?”

   She shook her head after a pause, and he seemed to be having some sort of conversation in his mind, settling on something, and he raised the head of the bed, directing her to sit up a little.

   “When you showed up at my house after the wedding, I was…pissed, obviously at what went down between you two. It was bad enough that he’d showed up at my door when you were dating, accusing us of sleeping together, but the drugging, coupled with the frequent invocation of his wife didn’t sit right in my head. Something was off about him, and you didn't see it because you're not trained to. Not like I am.”

   “You think his wife’s death made him crazy?”

   “No, baby. I’m saying that his wife’s death was _suspicious_.”

   “How the fuck is dying from cancer suspicious?” Jess was starting to catch on, but she needed to hear him say it, to prove to her how fucking stupid she really was.

   “She didn’t die from cancer. I pulled some strings to get a look at her death record, and the official cause was an ‘accidental overdose’.”

   Jess was on her feet before she even registered that she’d moved, and her back hit the wall as Rick’s eyes closed with what was probably regret. She didn’t stick around to find out, edging her way down the hall to the nurse's station to try once again to get access to Larissa, even as Rick called after her.

   “Mrs. Grimes,” the same doctor headed her off, taking her by the elbow as he inclined his head. “I passed along your message to Miss Desmond, and she’d very much like to see you.”

   “Please,” she looked up at him, trying to cling to anything that she could to keep from having a full-on nervous breakdown.

   “I’ll show you in.”

   Larissa was being guarded by two men in uniform, both of whom she knew from Rick’s department, and they stepped aside to allow her and the doctor in. The room was just like Rick’s, but the person lying in the bed looked more broken in spirit. Her blonde hair was stringy, laying listlessly against the white pillow. The dark circles under her eyes only highlighted the dullness of her irises, and her once-tan skin was chalky, and not just pale like Jessica’s. It was devoid of any sort of life, and Jess stopped in her tracks, feeling like she was walking over someone’s grave.

   Until Larissa reached out for her, and she rushed over, a whispered apology eeking out of her lips as she gripped the other woman’s hands, which were surprisingly steady.

   “Oh, God, Larissa. I’m so sorry, for everything.”

   “Rick? He’s…okay?”

   She tried to smile to convey reassurance, but all that formed was a grimace, and she sat on the edge of the bed, a hoarse sound popping out before she cleared her throat.

   “He’ll be fine. A couple of broken ribs, and he’s malnourished, but he’ll recover.”

   “I found him, Jess,” she sounded like she was fading away, and Jess looked to the doctor who was checking her heart rate on the machine attached to her chest, but other than an increased beat, was apparently nothing to worry about. “I thought that I would get out of there and tell you, but he knew-“

   “I don’t know why this had to happen to you, but I want you to know how profoundly sorry I am. This will haunt me for the rest of my life, and to see you like this is unbearable. What can I do to help you?”

   Larissa studied her face, looking for answers, possibly, but Jessica couldn’t tell her what she’d just learned from Rick. She didn’t want to break this girl any more than she already was. But if she had to give every drop of blood in her body to make sure Larissa would be all right, she’d gladly do it.

   “Just…can we…can we stay friends?”

   It sounded so unsure, so heartfelt that she smiled, a genuine, truly touched smile, and she smoothed the blonde hair on the pillow, speaking before she even talked to Rick to get his input.

   “You're family, now. I want you to come and stay with us when you get out of here. I want you to feel safe. Will you do that?”

   One day after finding the love of her life, again, Jessica got a roommate, a sister of sorts, and she vowed to herself that she’d keep this girl safe from Negan if it was the last thing she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! The writer's block was kicking my ASS on this story, hence the fourteen other ones I have going right now. :)  
> Of course, slimy Negan got away, but Rick and co. won't go down without a fight. If you're still reading this, thank you for your patience. I hope to update again, soon, now that the wall is down.


	40. Chapter 40

   Daryl was the first to pull away from the hospital, with Jessica’s parents close behind, and the Grimes car the last to exit the garage. Rick was nestled in the passenger’s seat, and Jessica drove slowly down the street in the early morning, way before a normal discharge time. Given the publicity surrounding his miraculous ordeal, Rick and his doctors had decided to wait an additional day before releasing him. They’d made arrangements to have him home just after sunup, and he stared at the outside world apprehensively.

   Jess found herself unsure of what to say. He didn’t need reassurance, and he didn’t need some lame inspirational quote. There was no protocol for how to behave in a situation like this, so she did the only thing she could, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. His grip was strong, and she felt a surge of hope that they could be normal again. Someday.

   Negan was still nowhere to be found, and he was enemy number one in the eyes of the Atlanta Police Department. They were coordinating with a number of other cities, and his picture was in the hands of every lawman from here to New York. After Jess found out that he wasn’t in police custody, she’d been cataclysmically upset, and the ER doc working had wanted to give her a sedative, but she’d refused.

   It was a good thing she did, because not long after, the first round of questioning began, for both her and Larissa. Law enforcement wanted to know as much as they could about Negan’s relationships, his personal life, anything that could give them a hint as to where he was or where he would go.

   The only problem was, who the fuck knew if anything he’d ever told them was true? He’d lied about Lucille, telling Jess she’d died from cancer. He’d never even told Larissa about her.

   Hours of questions, follow-up statements. Recollections of every moment she’d ever shared with him left her exhausted and raw, and she’d crawled into bed with Rick after, so spent that she buried her face in his neck, sleeping for close to six hours. When she woke up, she was alone, and panic set in, thinking that something had happened, but Rick came trudging into the room with two cups of coffee, his movements stiff, but determined.

   “Oh,” she breathed, rubbing her face tiredly. “I thought-“

   “I’m still here, Jazz. I wanted to get up and get moving.”

   He handed her one of the cups, sitting down in the chair, instead, and she sipped at the tepid liquid, avoiding his probing gaze until Carl came in, without Lori and Shane, thankfully. His demeanor was that of a petulant teen, and Jess brought her legs up to her knees as he glared at his father.

   “Why can’t I stay with you?”

   She watched the air between them, keeping her mouth shut as Carl built up to one of his big explosions, evident by the way he kept flipping his hair out of his eyes.

   “Because it’s not safe right now, and I don’t need to worry that something’s going to happen to you. Shane and your mother’s house is the best place for you to be until Negan is caught.”

   “But it’s okay for Jess and that girl to be in danger?”

   Jess opened her mouth to say something, but the look on Rick’s face made her lean back as he stood up, looking vicious. She understood where Carl’s complaint was coming from, but it was the wrong time to test his boundaries, and he shrunk back under the weight of his father’s intense scrutiny.

   “Watch your fucking mouth, Carl,” he hissed, leaning his face close to his son’s. “I would never put them in harm’s way and you know it, but they’re adults, and you’re a child.”

   “I’m not a kid-“

   “You’re my child,” he roared, shaking. “I’ve spent a month in a hole, terrified that I was never going to see you again. I have enough to worry about without you trying to get yourself into the line of fire.”

   Carl’s bravado dissipated in light of Rick’s fury, and he crumpled forward into his dad’s chest, starting to cry, all shaking shoulders and quiet sobs, and Rick held him tightly with a tired look to Jess, who stood up from the bed, placing a calming hand on each one.

   “Carl?”

   With a shuddering breath, he opened one wary eye to her, and she kissed his temple, smoothing his hair back. Truly, she didn’t want him to miss any more time with his dad, but she was in total agreement with Rick that it wasn’t practical for him to be at the house until Negan was behind bars.

   “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, straightening up, and dropping his gaze to the floor.

   “I understand where you’re coming from,” Jess smiled, “and I want you there, too. But you don’t know this guy like we do. He’s dangerous, and on the off-chance that he would miraculously show up, if anything happened to you…”

   “When this is over, we’ll be a family again,” Rick promised, shutting his eyes as all the brief energy he had was sapped, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “We’ll take a long vacation, all right? Just hang in there.”

   Carl left not long after, and they shared a quiet dinner of hospital meatloaf, bland peas, and milk. One of the orderlies brought in a second bed, and they lay next to each other, both pretending to sleep instead of starting to process everything that had happened. Her parents were already in town, and she’d asked them to meet her at the hospital for the trip home, hoping to avoid a long, drawn- out talk about the events of the last few days.

   Surprisingly, they’d complied, and now were currently escorting the convoy back to their house. Jess, for her part, was adrift in uncertainty, both as to how to proceed with Rick, and with a normal life, if there was one to be had. Everything hinged on Negan, and she hated that he was still a presence in her life. It felt like they’d never be rid of him, and her grip had tightened around his hand without realizing it until he slid his fingers free.

   “Sorry,” she murmured, placing it back on the steering wheel and staring out at the back of her dad’s rental car.

   “We’re almost there, Jazz.”

   Whether he was referring to the house or the end of their ordeal, she didn’t know, but when they turned onto their street, they both swore at the same time.

   “Shit.”

   “God damn it.”

   Camped outside their house were reporters and cameras, along with a few bystanders. Someone from the hospital must’ve tipped them off, and she saw Daryl’s bike speed up, pulling into the drive well before them. His helmet was whipped off, and he stalked over to the crowd as Jessica’s dad parked behind the bike. All the cameras swung towards their car, and Rick turned his head towards her as they parked in the detached garage.

   Jessica’s dad was oddly calm, meeting them at the entrance along with her mom, and they formed a barrier between the intrusion as Daryl joined them, glaring back at the vultures that watched, enraptured as they climbed the steps, calling out for attention.

   “Rick!”

   “Mister Grimes!”

   “Jessica!”

   “Tell us how you feel.”

   “Have they caught him yet?”

   It was overwhelming enough that her hands were shaking as she tried to put the house key in the lock, and her dad took them from her, opening it with ease and ushering them inside. Rick looked around, dazed, and she forgot that he hadn’t been here since she’d repainted.

   “I forgot to tell you,” she murmured as her dad closed the curtains, blocking out all prying eyes. Her mom went right to the kitchen, and they could hear pots and pans being carted out. When in doubt, cook, was Nancy Turner’s motto, and her dad slipped out discreetly, as did Daryl, who probably went to check all the rooms. “Carl and I repainted.”

   “It looks nice,” he said, his eyes locked on the pictures that sat on the fireplace mantle. “Colorful.”

   “Yeah.”

   They were alone, but surrounded by other people, and she waited for him to dictate what should happen next. Blinking out of his trance, he started towards the hall, touching the wall lightly. Carl’s door was open, and he flicked the light on, taking in its new appearance as well, continuing on after a brief reflection.

   “Um, I did our room, too,” she said, warning him before he walked in to a completely different space. Plum colored glaze now coated the walls, along with new drapes, pictures, and bedding. He stood in the middle of the room, and she noticed that his arms were trembling. “We can change it back…”

   “I like it,” she heard him mutter, and he started for his closet before coming to a sudden stop, and she rushed forward, opening the door to show him that he was still there, still a part of her life.

   “I didn’t get rid of your things, Rick,” she said as he stared blankly. “I…you’re still here, baby.”

   “Jazz,” he choked out, and she flew at him, hugging him. “How long was I gone?”

   She knew it was a rhetorical question. He was well aware how long it was, but the unease, the inability to reconcile who he was before with who he was now was overwhelming him, and she didn’t know how to help him. How to take it away, the pain Negan had caused, both physically and emotionally. He’d taken over their lives, terrorized them, and he was still wreaking havoc, even at a distance.

   “I’m sorry, Rick. I’m so sorry.”

   How many times was she going to have to say it? Every day for the rest of her life? It was never going to be enough, and they stood together, each crying for what they’d lost, and never get back. But they were here, and they still had each other, and she ran her hands through his hair, breathing deeply.

   When she stepped back, he was red-eyed but calmer, and she went to the bathroom, turning on the shower as he came in, glancing at the walls. She’d painted them an eggplant color, and hand stenciled ivy going up the walls. His fingers traced their path, lost in the curves and leaves until she laid out a fresh towel for him.

   “You’re so talented,” he murmured, and she gave him a tight smile, shutting the door behind him so he could shower in peace. When she heard the curtain close, she went into his closet, laying out clean clothes for him and going into the kitchen. Keep moving. Don’t stop. You can’t break down if you don’t give yourself a chance to.

   “How’s he doin’?”

   Daryl was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, looking at her seriously as she took the spot next to him, resting her elbows on the table and her head on her palms, ignoring her mom’s raised eyebrows.

   “Lost,” she muttered. “Overwhelmed. Tired. Angry.”

   “Give it time, sweetheart,” her dad told her, chopping up peppers as her mom stirred something in a bowl. They were hard at work making breakfast for the five of them, and she watched them move in unison like always. “You’re one day removed from the most traumatic event you’ve ever been through.”

   “I know, dad. I just don’t know how to help him. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.”

   “Nothing.”

   “Excuse me?” she stared at his back as her mom nodded in agreement.

   “You need to just be there, Jessica. Let Rick decompress and come to terms with everything he’s been through. He’ll let you know what he needs from you, and after some distance from this…business, you two need to get some therapy.”

   The doctor had mentioned the same thing, and Daryl ducked his head, avoiding becoming a part of the conversation. Family discussions weren’t his thing, and he honestly had no experience with it.

   “I’m gonna go check-in and see if there’s any updates,” he said, stalking towards the back door, avoiding the press out front. Jess watched as he paced the backyard, checking a few stakes of the little fence that surrounded Rick’s garden area, and she felt a pang of remorse that she hadn’t kept it maintained while he was gone. It was overgrown with weeds and tomatoes lay on the ground, overripe and ruined.

    _Ruined_.

   She burst into sudden tears, rushing down the hall to their room, throwing herself on the bed. The sadness had bubbled up suddenly, and it washed over her as she muffled her cries into the pillow, aching from head to toe. Her brain told her to get ahold of herself, that Rick didn’t need to walk out and see this pathetic display, but her heart took over, and she poured out all the despair that she was feeling into her pillow until she felt warm fingers brush the back of her neck, and she hiccupped, rolling over to see Rick dressed in the shirt and pants she’d laid out.

   He was freshly washed and shaved, his hair brushed back, and the pink in his cheeks was so beautiful that she reached out, tracing her fingertips over the color, thinking that she’d break into a million pieces if he said anything right then, but he didn’t, he just crawled next to her, laying on his side so that they were face to face. Two grateful, sad, emotionally damaged people that managed to find each other once more, and he kissed her forehead, brushing her toes with his own.

   “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered after several minutes, and she searched his eyes, seeing the old Rick in there, just around the edges, waiting to come out when it was safe. What she didn’t know at that moment was that he was seeing the same thing in her. The old Jessica Grimes that was waiting for him to come back to her so that they were truly joined.

   “Do you want some breakfast?” she traced the contours of his face, knowing that he’d gain his weight back eventually. “My mom’s making omelets, I think.”

   “That sounds really good, actually.”

   Before he could rise, she pulled him towards her, kissing him softly, carefully, and he responded in kind, opening his lips and tracing his tongue over hers. If she died right then, it would be okay, because for a split second, they had no problems, no worries. It was only him and her, and a moan sounded from deep in her throat and prompted him to press himself against her, his hand going into her hair and knotting itself there.

   “Food’s ready, kids.”

   They separated, breathless and dazed as her father’s voice carried down the hall, and Rick smiled, looking at ease. “Must be ‘dad radar’.”

   Jessica laughed unsteadily, and the two of them stood up. Rick reached for her hand, and she let him lead her down the hall, finding a spread that most kings would approve of. Omelets, bacon, toast, orange juice and cut fruit were all laid out as Daryl came back in, shaking his head once as Jessica watched him, her stomach turning in on itself, even with all this food in front of them.

   Negan was still out there.


End file.
